,;r:fc^rJ^V,*\,y 


)niia 
al 


''   )    U  - 


'     VOL  -H CLASS. 


;•;' 


^ 


y 


\ 


■^  » 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.arQliive.org/details/biograpliyofpiousOOspriiala 


,,wy  v(>-S 


r 


BIOGRAPHY 


PIOU8   P£R80NS 


BIOGRAPHY 


OF 


PIOUS     PERSONS; 


ABRIDGED  FOR  YOUTH. 


'  Will  ihou  not  from  this  time  cry  unto  me,  My  Father,  thou  art  the 
guide  of  my  youth?" — Jeremiah. 


MERRIAM,    LITTLE    AND    CO. 

183  2. 


Entered  according  to  the  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year 
1S32,  by  Merriam,  Little  &  Co.  in  the  Clerk's  Office 
of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


PREFACE. 


The  individuals  whose  biographies  are 
here  selected  and  condensed,  resided  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  Europe  and  America,  and 
occupied  a  space  of  time  nearly  equal  to  three 
centuries.  They  were  of  both  sexes,  and  of 
every  date,  from  the  bloom  of  childhood,  to 
the  decrepitude  of  age.  They  exhibited  va- 
rieties of  intellect,  attainment,  profession,  and 
doctrinal  belief.  Some  were  scarcely  known 
beyond  the  narrow  sphere  of  domestic  duty, — 
others  became  illustrious  throughout  distant 
climes,  as  poets,  philosophers,  physicians, 
civilians  or  divines.  They  were  also  diversi- 
fied by  every  grade  of  rank  and  station,  from 
the  obscurity  of  the  humble  householder,  to 
the  pomp  of  nobility,  and  the  splendor  of  a 
throne. 

Vet  amidst  all  this  contrast  of  structure  and 
circmnstancc,  a  pervading  principle  of  unifor- 
mity may  be  discovered.  One  possession 
was  connnon  to  all,  whether  in  poverty  or 
wealth.  Tliey  were  sustained  under  adver- 
sity, and  guarded  in  prosperity,  by  the  same 


IV  PREFACE. 

invisible  Hand.  From  one  source,  both  the 
favorite  of  genius,  and  the  child  of  ignorance, 
derived  knowledge  ;  that  knowledge  of  man's 
infirmity,  and  of  God's  mercy,  which  "maketh 
wise  unto  salvation."  However  differently 
they  might  seem  arrayed  to  the  eye  of  the 
world,  it  was  the  armor  of  true  piety  which 
shielded  them  in  misfortime,  and  gave  them 
victory  over  temptation.  It  was  the  steadfast 
faith  of  the  Christian,  which  took  from  the 
ills  of  life  their  power  to  hurt  the  soul ; — it 
was  the  "  hope  full  of  glory,"  that  gave  a 
smile  to  death,  either  amid  the  terrors  of  a 
scaffold, — or  the  protracted  agonies  of  disease. 

To  those  who  may  contemplate  these  ex- 
amples, the  question  is  submitted,  whether 
that  religion  is  not  worthy  of  persevering- 
search,  of  ardent  prayer, — which  can  render 
the  illusions  of  prosperity  harmless,  and  the 
pains  of  sorrow  salutary, — make  life's  pilgrim- 
age a  scene  of  virtue,  and  beautify  death  as 
an  angel  of  repose, — exchange  the  coveted 
and  perishing  goods  of  time  for  an  eternal 
heritage  in  the  heavens  1  And  to  the  young, 
— to  whose  perusal  these  pages  are  particu- 
larly and  affectionately  dedicated, — do  they 
not  offer  additional  inducements  to  "remem- 
ber their  Creator,"  ere  the  period  of  that 
promise  shall  expire,  "  those  that  seek  me 
early  shall  find  me  ?" 

Hartford,  Conn.,  January,  1832. 


INDEX, 

Chronologically  arranged. 

— ^O©— 

Year  of  Birth.  Page. 

1.  Catharine  Parr,  last  Queen  of  Henry  the 

Eighth  of  England, 1509.  9 

2.  Jane,  Q,ucen  of  Navarre, 1528.  16 

3.  Lady  Jane  Grey, 1536.  22 

4.  Philip  de  Mornay,  Lord  du  Plessis,  .    .     .  1549,  32 

5.  Sir  Francis  Bacon,     ........  1561.  35 

6.  John  Milton, 1608.  41 

7.  Sir  Matthew  Hale, -    .  1609.  52 

8.  Rev.  Rowland  Nevit, 1609.  59 

9.  Rev.  Francis  Tallents, 1609.  61 

10.  Rev.  Samuel  Stone,        1610.  65 

11.  Blaise  Pascal, 1623.  70 

12.  Countess  of  Suffolk, 1627.  74 

13.  Countess  of  Warwick 1630.  81 

14.  Rev.  Philip  Henry, 1631.  89 

15.  Susanna  Bicks 1650.  117 

16.  Fenelon,  Archbishop  of  Cambray,   .    .    .1651.  130 

17.  Rev.  Christopher  Love, 1651.  139 

18.  Jacob  Bicks, 1657.  142 

19.  Marquis  of  Argylc, 1661.  145 

20.  Rev.  Samuel  Lawrence, 1661.  147 

21.  Rev.  Matthew  Henry, 1662.  109 

22.  Mary,  duccn  of  Great  Britain,  Consort  of 
William  Third, 1662.  .151 


VI  INDEX. 

Mar  of  Birth.  Page. 

23.  John  Harvey, •     .  1664.  164 

24.  Dr.  Herman  Boerhaave, 16G8.  168 

25.  Dr.  Samuel  Benion, 1673.  175 

26.  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Rowc, 1674.  187 

27.  Lady  Mary  Vere, 1680-  198 

28.  Col.  James  Gardiner,     .     ......  1688.  202 

29.  Rev.  Jonathan  Edwards, 1703.  206 

30.  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson 1709.  221 

31.  Rev.  George  Wliitefield,       1714.  230 

32.  Rev.  Samuel  Bueli, 1716.  243 

33.  William  Cowper,  Esq •     .     .1731.  248 

34.  Dr.  James  Beattie 1735.  252 

35.  Rev.  Samuel  Stillman, 1737.  265 

36.  Rev.  Jonathan  Edwards,  2d, 1745.  268 

37.  Sir  Wilham  Jones,      ........  1746.  276 

38.  Hon.  Samuel  Osgood, 1748.  282 

39.  Eliza  Cunningham, 1771.  285 

40.  Joshua  Rowley  Gilpin,  ...'...  1788.  300 


BIOGRAPHY,    &c. 


CATHARINE  PARR, 

last  queen  of  king  henry  the  eighthj  of 
eKgland. 


Her  birth  was  in  the  year  1509,  the 
1609.  beginning  of  the  reign  of  the  monarch 
who  was  afterwards  her  husband.  Her 
fathec,  Sir  Tlionias  Parr,  gave  her  a  learned  edu- 
cation, and  her  progress  was  fully  answerable  to  her 
uncommon  advantages.  But  with  all  her  endow- 
ments, she  seemed  less  solicitous  to  shine  than 
to  serve  her  fellow-creatures,  and  to  please  her 
God ;  and  in  every  stage  of  life  consecrated  her 
talents  and  accomplishments  to  the  best  and  M'isest 
purposes.  Very  early  in  life  she  was  married  to 
John  Neville,  Lord  Latimer,  and  after  his  decease 
the  beauties  of  her  person,  and  charms  of  her  mind, 
so  captivated  the  changeable  king  Henry  the 
Eighth,  that  he  induced  her  to  become  his  wife,  on 
the  12th  of  July,  1643. 

She  was  now  in  a  situation  to  do  extensive  good, 
and  industriously  availed  herself  of  every  opportu- 
nity, either  to  relieve  the  distressed,  espouse  the 
1 


10  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

cause  of  the  injured,  or  soften  the  asperities  of  her 
irritable  consort.  Piety  preserved  her  pure  from 
the  vanities  of  a  court,  and  in  prayer  her  affections 
continually  ascended  upward.  From  infancy  her 
mind  had  received  deep  religious  impressions,  and 
her  matured  reason  rejected  the  errors  of  a  Popish 
education,  and  embraced  the  Protestant  faith. 
This  creed  exposed  her  to  many  persecutions  from 
her  enemies,  and  more  than  once  her  life  was  en- 
dangered by  their  influence  over  the  mind  of  her 
husband. 

Bishop  Gardiner,  a  fiery  Popish  zealot,  with 
much  art  persuaded  the  king  to  sign  a  warrant  for 
her  commitment  to  the  Tower,  but  this  instru- 
ment, being  accidentally  dropped,  was  conveyed  to 
Catharine,  who  was  so  deeply  affected  with  such 
base  ingratitude,  and  the  hard  condition  of  female 
royalty,  that  she  was  thrown  into  a  severe  fit  of 
sickness.  Henry  visited  her  in  her  sufferings,  and 
the  wavering  flame  of  his  affection  was  rekindled. 
Soon  after  he  was  himself  ill,  and  during  her  care- 
ful attendance  upon  him,  he  endeavored  to  draw 
from  her  an  avowal  of  what  he  suspected  were  her 
articles  of  belief;  but  she  knowing  his  bigoted 
attachment  to  Popery,  and  that  an  acknowledgment 
of  her  principles  would  inflame  him  to  madness, 
and  perhaps  overwhelm  many  with  herself,  express- 
ed her  opinions  with  such  prudence,  caution,  and 
delicacy,  as  soothed  his  temper,  though  without  re- 
moving his  suspicions,  and  drew  from  him  the  stron- 
gest assurances  of  reconciliation  and  love. 

But  the  fury  of  the  conspirators  did  not  abate,  and 
when  the  time  specified  in  the  warrant  for  her  im- 
prisonment had  arrived,  (hey  again  renewed  their 


CATHARINE    PARR.  11 

efforts,  thirsting  for  innocent  blood.  She  had  gone 
to  walk  in  the  garden  with  some  ladies  who  shared 
her  intimacy,  and  who  being  suspected  of  agreeing 
with  her  in  the  Protestant  faith,  were  secretly  ap- 
pointed to  share  her  imprisonment.  The  King 
joined  them  in  their  walk :  the  conversation  became 
sprightly  and  interesting,  and  he  began  to  realize 
what  his  heart  was  always  susceptible  of — the  force 
of  female  attraction.  Suddenly  forty  of  the  guards 
appeared,  led  on  by  the  Lord  High  Chancellor, 
when  Henry,  giving  him  a  stem  look,  in  the  most 
passionate  and  contemptuous  expressions  bade  him 
to  depart  instantly  Trom  his  presence. 

The  Queen,  observing  him  to  be  much  embar- 
rassed, said  with  great  sweetness  and  in  a  supplicating 
tone  of  voice,  "I  pray  your  Majesty,  if  the  fault  of  the 
Chancellor  be  not  too  heinous,  that  you  would  par- 
don him  for  my  sake."  Henry,  abashed  at  her 
goodness,  and  the  remembrance  of  his  fault,  stood 
silent,  while  she  repeatedly  entreated,  "for  my  sake 
— for  my  sake." — At  length  he  hinted  to  her  that 
his  design  was  to  have  imprisoned,  and  perhaps 
executed  her ;  but  when  he  saw  her  still  persist  in 
benevolent  entreaties  for  his  pardon,  he  was  so  pow- 
erfully struck  with  her  forgiving  piety,  that  his  mind, 
usually  wavering  and  inconstant,  never  forgot  the 
impression,  or  would  admit  any  accusation  against 
the  Queen. 

Thus  miraculously  did  divine  Providence  defeat 
the  malice  and  snares  of  her  enemies  ;  and  this 
imminent  danger  was  rendered  salutary  to  her  soul, 
by  exciting  it  to  new  fervency  in  prayer,  and  quick- 
ening its  preparation  for  eternity.  Such  was  the 
visible  answer  of  (lod  to  her  petitions,  and  to  such 


l^  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

a  degree  were  the  affections  of  the  monarch  rivetted 
upon  her,  that  after  the  failure  of  Gardiner's  cruel 
plan,  her  enemies,  though  they  wished  it,  never  dared 
to  make  a  similar  attempt.  She  still  continued  to 
search  the  Scriptures,  and  to  converse  with  her  chap- 
lains on  the  doctrines  of  the  Reformation,  and  had 
a  Sermon  preached  in  her  chamber  every  day.  She 
procured  an  able  translation  of  Erasmus'  Paraphrase 
of  the  New  Testament  into  English,  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  common  people,  and  the  cost  of  this 
expensive  work  she  defrayed  entirely  from  her  own 
resources.  During  the  time  of  ^er  continuance  as 
queen,  notwithstanding  her  many  and  peculiar  avo- 
cations, she  wrote  much  on  religious  subjects. 
Some  of  these  papers  were  published  during  her 
life,  and  others  after  her  death. 

Her  first  printed  composition,  was  one  in  which 
she  acknowledged  the  religious  errors  of  the  early 
part  of  her  life,  when  she  relied  on  external  perfor- 
mances, ignorant  of  that  internal  power  of  religion, 
which  had  afterwards  been  granted  to  her  humble 
and  persevering  prayers.  All  her  manuscripts  ex- 
hibit a  true  spirit  of  devotion,  and  a  deep  sense  of 
dependance  upon  God,  and  prove  how  much  of  her 
time  and  thoughts,  amid  the  pomps  and  ceremonies 
of  her  station,  were  devoted  to  the  concerns  of  her 
soul,  and  the  dissemination  of  piety  and  virtue  among 
her  people. 

She  considered  useful  learning,  as  favorable  to 
the  interests  of  religion,  and  used  constant  endeav- 
ors to  extend  and  promote  it.  So  much  was  she 
considered  the  patroness  of  literature,  and  such  was 
her  supposed  influence  over  the  king,  that  when  the 


CATHARINE    PARR.  13 

University  of  Cambridge  was  alarmed  at  the  pas- 
sing of  an  act  which  declared  all  the  Colleges  at  his 
Majesty's  disposal,  the  principal  heads  and  dignita- 
ries addressed  a  letter  to  her,  entreating  her  to  inter- 
cede that  their  privileges  might  not  be  abridged. 

In  her  reply,  after  signifying  that  his  Majesty  had 
granted  her  intercessions  in  their  behalf — she  adds 
— "  I  doubt  not,  your  daily  invocations  will  be  offered 
up  to  Him  who  alone  disposeth  of  every  creature, 
for  the  preservation  and  prosperity  of  your  royal 
benefactor."  After  commending  the  flourishing  state 
of  literature  at  Cambridge,  she  exhorts  them  "not 
so  to  hunger  for  the  exquisite  knowledge  of  profane 
learning,"  as  to  neglect  the  simplicity  of  the  doctrines 
of  Christ.  She  concludes  this  excellent  letter — "I 
am  taught  to  say  by  St.  Paul — 'I  am  not  ashamed 
of  the  gospel  of  Christ ;'  to  the  sincere  setting  forth 
of  which,  I  trust  you  will  conform  your  various  gifts 
and  studies,  that  Cambridge  may  be  accounted  an 
University,  not  only  of  moral  and  natural,  but  of 
divine  Philosophy." 

Next  to  the  duties  of  devotion,  and  the  study  of 
the  scriptures,  it  was  the  care  of  this  excellent  woman 
to  perform  her  duty  to  the  king.  Perhaps  no  one 
but  herself  could  so  well  have  executed  that  ardu- 
ous task.  The  ill  health  that  was  his  constant  por- 
tionduringhercontinuance  with  him,  added  fierceness 
to  his  harsh  and  intractable  disposition,  and  though 
his  principal  favorites  suffered  severely  from  liis 
caprice  and  passion,  the  amiable  qualities  of  his  con- 
sort, her  gentleness,  tenderness,  and  charms  of 
conversation,  alleviated  his  pains,  and  fixed  his 
mutable  affections.  His  death  took  place,  three 
years  and  a  half  after  she  became  his  wife,  and  she 
1* 


14  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

was  again  married  to  Sir  Thomas  Seymour,  Lord 
High  Admiral  of  England.  The  harshness  and 
ambition  of  her  second  husband,  and  the  unexam- 
pled pride  of  some  of  his  family,  embittered  her 
days,  and  hastened  their  decline.  In  the  month  of 
September,  1548,  she  passsed  where  "the  wicked 
cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest." 

To  this  little  sketch  of  her  character  I  add  part 
of  one  of  her  prayers,  which  these  narrow  limits 
compel  me  reluctantly  to  abridge  ; — 

"Most  benign  Lord  Jesus !  Grant  me  thy  grace 
always  to  work  in  me,  and  persevere  with  me  unto 
the  end.  Let  me  have  no  desire  to  will,  or  not  to 
will,  but  as  thou  wilt :  for  thou  Lord  knowest  what 
is  most  profitable  and  expedient  for  me.  Give  me 
therefore  what  thou  wilt : — as  much  as  thou  wilt ; — 
and  when  thou  wilt.  I  pray  thee,  gi-ant  me  thy 
grace,  that  I  may  never  set  my  heart  on  the  things 
of  this  world,  but  that  all  carnal  and  worldly  affec- 
tions may  utterly  die,  and  be  mortified  in  me.  For 
thou,  Lord,  art  the  very  true  peace  of  my  heart, 
and  perfect  rest  of  my  soul,  and  without  thee  all 
things  are  grievous  and  unquiet. 

I  beseech  thee,  be  with  me  in  every  place,  and  at 
all  times ;  yet  if  thou  withdraw  thy  comfort  from 
me  at  any  time,  keep  me,  O  Lord,  from  desperation, 
and  make  me  patiently  to  bear  thy  will.  If  thou 
wilt  that  I  be  in  light,  be  thou  blessed  : — if  thou  wilt 
that  I  lie  in  trouble,  and  without  comfOrt,  be  thou 
likewise  blessed.  Keep  me.  Lord,  from  sin,  and 
then  I  shall  dread  neither  death  or  hell.  Oh !  what 
thanks  shall  I  give  unto  thee,  who  hast  suffered  the 
grievous  death  of  the  cross,  to  deliver  me  from  my 
sins,  and  to  obtain  everlasting  life  for  me  ?    Thou 


CATHARINE    PARR.  15 

gavest  us  the  most  perfect  example  of  patience, 
fulfilling  and  obeying  the  will  of  thy  Father  even 
unto  death.  Make  me,  wretched  sinner,  obediently 
to  order  myself  after  thy  will  in  all  things,  and 
patiently  to  bear  the  burden  of  this  corrupt  life. 
For  though  it  be  tedious,  and  as  an  heavy  burden 
to  my  soul,  yet  nevertheless  through  thy  grace  and 
example,  it  is  made  much  more  easy  and  comforta- 
ble. Thy  holy  lile  is  our  way  to  thee,  and  by  follow- 
ing that,  we  walk  to  Thee  our  head  and  Saviour. 

Except  thou  hadst  gone  before,  and  showed  us 
the  way  to  everlasting  life,  who  would  endeavor  of 
himself  to  follow  thee,  seeing  we  are  yet  so  slow 
and  dull,  having  the  light  of  thy  blessed  example  and 
holy  doctrine  to  lead  and  direct  us  ?  0  Lord  Jesus, 
makc.that  possible  by  grace,  which  is  to  me  impos- 
sible by  nature.  Thou  knowest  well  that  I  can 
sufier  little,  that  I  am  soon  cast  down  and  over- 
thrown with  a  little  adversity :  wherefore  I  beseech 
thee,  O  Jjord,  to  strengthen  me  with  thy  Spirit,  that 
I  may  willingly  suffer  for  thy  sake  all  manner  of 
troubles  and  afflictions." 


JAJTE,  Q,UEEX  OF  XAVARRE. 


She  was  the  daughter  of  Henry  Second,  King 
of   Navarre,  and  Mai^aret  of  Orleans, 

1528.  sister  of  the  celebrated  Francis  First, 
of  France.  She  was  married  to  Antho- 
ny, of  Bourbon,  son  of  the  Duke  of  Vendome, 
and  the  mother  of  Henry  the  Great,  fourth  king 
of  France  and  Navarre.  Early  initiated  by  her 
parents  in  the  truths  of  the  Protestant  religion, 
she  became  a  firm  adherent  to  them,  in  times 
of  distressing  bigotry  and  persecution.  The 
leading  French  papists,  finding  her  firm  against 
their  insinuations,  endeavored  to  detach  her  hus- 
band from  the  Protestant  interest,  and  so  far  was 
he  duped  by  their  artifices,  as  to  solicit  his  queen  to 
return  with  him  to  the  bosom  of  the  Romish  Church, 
and  on  her  refusal,  withdrew  from  her  his  affections 
and  his  confidence.  She  therefore  retired  to  Po- 
diani,  in  the  country  of  Berne,  where  she  kept  her 
diminished  court,  and  enjoyed  the  consolations  of 
her  religion. 

Soon  after,  she  became  a  widow,  for  the  King 
of  Navarre  was  mortally  wounded  in  the  shoulder,  at 
the  siege  of  Orleans.  The  Catholic  faction  imme- 
diately attempted  to  seize  the  queen  with  her  son 
and  daughter,  and  bring  them  before  the  Spanish 


JANE,  QUEEN  OP  NAVARRE.         17 

Inquisition.  But  this  cruel  design  was  frustrated 
by  a  signal  interposition  of  that  Almighty  Being, 
who  preserves  those  whose  tnist  is  in  his  mercy,  and 
whose  prayers  continually  ascend  before  his  throne. 
Persecutions  of  the  Protestants  now  commenced 
with  the  greatest  fury,  and  fountains  of  innocent 
blood  were  seen  to  flow. 

In  the  third  civil  war,  the  queen  of  Navarre  find- 
ing every  pacific  proposal  rejected,  advanced  with 
considerable  force  to  Rochelle.  After  the  first 
unfortunate  battle,  where  the  prince  of  Condi^  was 
slain,  she  gathered  the  scattered  remains  of  the 
Protestant  army,  and  animated  a  great  assembly 
of  nobles  and  soldiers,  by  the  spirit  of  her  eloquence. 
She  applauded  the  piety  and  constancy  of  the  fallen 
hero,  and  called  upon  all  who  heard  her  to  imitate 
his  example,  and  to  persevere  in  supporting  the 
cause  of  Christ,  and  the  liberties  *of  their  country. 
"  For  the  good  cause,  said  she,  is  not  dead  with 
the  Prince  of  Conde,  neither  ought  worthy  men  in 
such  losses  to  yield  to  despondency.  God  having 
so  provided  for  his  cause,  that  he  gave  Conde  a  com- 
panion while  he  hved,  who  may  succeed  him  now 
he  is  no  more.  I  have  brought  with  me,  my  only 
son  Heniy,  who  being  the  heir  of  Conde's  name 
is  heir  also  of  his  virtues." 

After  striving  to  inspirit  her  nobles,  and  giving 
the  young  prince  much  private  counsel  and  admo- 
nition, she  returned  to  Rochelle  to  raise  new  rein- 
forcements. But  misfortune  still  attended  her  arms; 
the  countries  of  Berne  and  Foox  were  reduced, 
and  the  Papists  laid  furious  siege  to  Navarre,  the 
only  place  of  strength  that  remained.  It  was  then 
found  that  the  humble  prayers  of  the  saints,  "  were 


18  BIOGRAPHY    OF   PIOUS    PERSONS. 

mighty  through  God  to  the  pulling  down  of  strong 
holds,  and  to  the  easting  down  of  every  high  thing 
that  exalteth  itself."  A  victory,  unexpected,  £ind 
almost  miraculous,  was  given  to  the  persecuted 
saints,  and  the  enemy  retreated  with  disgrace,  re- 
signing the  conquered  territory,  and  offering  condi- 
tions of  peace.  To  confirm  the  treaty  still  more 
effectually,  they  proposed  a  marriage  between  the 
young  Prince  Henry,  and  the  sister  of  the  king 
of  France.  The  Queen  of  Navarre  objected,  on 
account  of  their  different  religious  belief, — but  her 
remonstrances  were  overruled  by  the  argument, 
that  it  would  establish  peace  on  a  more  permanent 
basis,  and  stop  the  effusion  of  blood. 

She  improved  the  little  interval  of  quiet  which 
attended  this  negotiation,  in  disseminating  the 
principles  of  the  reformed  religion  among  her 
subjects.  She  sent  a  number  of  pastors  into  the 
neglected  province  of  Cantabria,  and  translated 
into  their  dialect,  the  New  Testament,  Catechism, 
and  prayers  used  in  the  church  at  Geneva.  While 
she  was  employing  herself  in  these  pious  designs, 
the  French  King  sent  dispatches  to  her,  insisting 
that  the  proposed  nuptials  should  be  celebrated  at 
Paris.  To  this  she  assented  reluctantly,  and  in 
the  spring  of  1672,  left  her  hereditary  dominions 
with  her  children  and  retinue.  She  was  observed 
to  depart  with  regret ; — but  she  went  "  as  a  bird  to 
the  snare  of  the  fowler, — not  knowing  that  it  was 
for  her  life." 

The  festivity  attending  the  marriage  of  her  son, 
was  chosen  by  the  inhuman  Papists,  as  the  signal 
of  the  massacre  of  the  unsuspecting  Protestants, 
and  so  secretly  was  this  abominable  plot  laid,  and  so 


JANE,  QUEEN  OF  NAVARRE.         19 

unprovided  were  they  for  defence,  that  on  the  24th 
of  August,  30,000  of  them  were  butchered  without 
regard  to  age  or  sex.  The  French  queen  dowager, 
one  of  the  principal  instigators,  fearing  that  Jane 
might  escape  the  massacre,  and  dreading  the  effects 
of  the  greatness  of  her  spirit  should  she  survive, 
resolved  to  make  sure  this  victim.  Two  months 
previous  to  the  intended  massacre,  while  all  wore 
the  appearance  of  satisfaction  and  joy,  she  engaged 
an  Italian  >vretch,  of  the  name  of  Rene,  to  sell  to 
the  innocent  Queen  of  Navarre,  some  perfume, 
mingled  with  the  most  subtile,  and  powerful  poison. 
She  was  immediately  thrown  into  a  lingering  and 
excruciating  fever,  which  she  perceived  must  termi- 
nate in  death.  With  dignified  composure,  with 
profound  solemnity,  she  prepared  her  soul  for  the 
approaching  event.  Calling  her  son  Henry  to  her 
couch,  she  gave  him  much  excellent  advice,  and 
among  other  things  said, — "  I  enjoin  you  above  all, 
carefully  to  serve  God  in  the  religion  in  which  you 
have  been  educated,  and  not  to  suffer  your  soul  to 
be  diverted  by  the  empty  pleasures  and  delights 
of  this  world.  Inviolably  preserve  the  constitutions 
which  have  been  given  respecting  it,  in  the  princi- 
palities of  Berne,  and  the  lower  Navarre.  Purge 
your  family  of  all  irreligious  counsellors,  vicious 
persons,  and  flatterers,  the  abusers  of  princes. 
Take  a  tender  care  of  your  sister  Catharine,  and 
give  her  an  education  in  the  same  school  of  piety 
where  you  have  received  your  own." 

After  appointing  him  her  heir,  and  entreating 
the  King  of  France  to  be  the  protectgr  of  her 
orphan  children,  and  allow  them  the  free  exercise 
of  their  religion,  she  requested  tliat  she  might  have 


20  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

suitable  persons  around  her,  to  pray  with  her, 
and  administer  consolation  to  her  departing  soul. 
*'  I  take  all  this,"  said  she,  "  as  sent  from  the  hands 
of  my  most  merciful  Father.  Nor  have  I  during  this 
extremity  been  afraid  to  die ;  much  less  have  I 
murmured  against  this  chastisement,  knowing  that 
whatsoever  God  does  shall  in  the  end  turn  to  my 
everlasting  good.  As  for  this  life,  I  am  in  a  good 
measure  weaned  from  it,  by  the  afflictions  which 
have  followed  me  from  my  youth  to  the  present 
hour  ;  but  especially  because  I  cannot  live  without 
offending  my  God,  with  whom  I  desire  to  be  with 
all  my  heart." 

Her  minister  requested  her  to  pray,  that  if  it  were 
the  will  of  God  she  might  be  longer  employed  in 
his  service  upon  earth.  She  replied,  "  For  myself 
this  sinful  life  is  not  dear,  but  I  have  a  concern  for 
the  children  whom  God  has  given  me,  and  if  I  were 
now  to  die  they  would  be  left  alone  in  their  early 
years.  Yet,  I  doubt  not,  if  he  were  to  see  fit  to 
take  me  from  them,  he  himself  will  be  a  Father  and 
Protector  for  them,  as  he  has  ever  been  to  nje  in 
my  greatest  afflictions :  and  therefore  I  commit 
them  wholly  to  his  government,  and  fatherly  care. 
Death  is  not  terrible  to  me,  because  it  is  the  way 
to  pass  to  eternal  rest."  Then  with  her  hands  and 
eyes  lifted  up  to  heq,ven,  she  said  in  the  voice  of 
prayer,  "  my  sins  which  I  have  committed  against 
the  Lord  are  innumerable,  and  more  than  I  can 
recount ;  yet  I  hope  that  God,  for  Christ's  sake, 
in  whom  I  put  my  whole  trust,  will  be  merciful  to 
me." 

The  steadiness  of  her  faith  imparted  a  cheerful 
serenity  to  her  countenance ;  and  her  pains,  though 


JANE,  QUEEN  OF  NAVARRE.        21 

very  severe,  never  extorted  from  her  an  impatient 
word,  or  scarcely  a  groan.  Often  amidst  edifying 
discourse,  she  was  heard  to  utter  in  prayer,  "  O  my 
(jrod,  in  thy  due  time  deliver  me  from  the  body  of 
this  death,  and  from  tlie  miseries  of  this  present 
life,  that  I  may  no  more  offend  thee,  and  that  I  may 
attain  to  that  felicity  which  thou  in  thy  word  hast 
promised  to  bestow  upon  tne."  Seeing  her  ladies 
weeping  round  her  bed,  ^he  said,  "  I  pray  you  do 
not  weep  for  me,  since  God  by  this  sickness  calls 
me  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  better  life ;  and  now  I 
am  about  to  enter  the  desired  haven  towards  which 
my  frail  vessel  has  been  so  long  steering."  Just  as 
she  was  expiring,  one  of  her  ministers  said,  "  Are  you 
now  willing  to  go  ?"  "  Yes,  I  assure  you,"  she  an 
.swered,  "much  more  willing  than  to  linger  here  below 
in  tliis  world  where  I  see  nothing  but  vanity,"  and 
thus  sweetly  yielded  up  her  breath,  June  9th,  1572, 
in  the  44th  year  of  her  age.  "  Queen  Jane  of 
Navarre,  says  Bishop  Burnet,  reformed  not  only 
her  court,  but  her  whole  principality  ;  and  to  such 
a  degree  that  the  golden  age  seemed  to  have  return- 
ed under  her,  or  rather  Christianity  appeared  again 
in  its  primitive  purity  and  lustre.  Her  dominions 
were  so  narrow,  that  though  she  had  the  rank  and 
dominion  of  queen,  it  was  like  sovereignty  in  min- 
iature ;  though  the  colors  were  light,  it  was  of  the 
.smallest  form." 


LADY  JAXE  GREY. 


Lady  Jane  Grey,  the  daughter  of  Henry,  Mar- 
quis of  Dorset,  and  Lady  Frances  Brandon,  grand 
daughter  of  Ilenry  Seventh,  was  bom 
1536.  in  the  year  1636.  Her  attractions  began 
early  to  display  themselves  ;  for  to  beau- 
ty of  person  she  united  many  accomplishments — el- 
egance in  the  performances  of  the  needle  and  pen, 
skill  in  vocal  and  instrumental  music,  gracefulness 
of  deportment,  and  an  inexpressible  charm  of  con- 
versation. Still  she  aspired  to  acquisitions  of  great- 
er solidity,  and  having  obtained  such  a  knowledge 
of  her  own  language  as  to  speak  and  write  with  pe- 
culiar accuracy,  she  acquired  the  French,  Italian, 
Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  Chaldee  and  Arabic.  These 
she  studied  so  thoroughly  as  to  render  them  perfect- 
ly familiar,  and  it  is  asserted  on  the  authority  of  the 
most  learned  men  of  that  period,  that  she  wrote  in 
each  with  facility.  This  great  mass  of  knowledge 
was  secured  in  childhood  and  early  youth  ;  and  so 
far  was  she  from  vanity  or  self  conceit,  that  she 
mingled  all  her  attainments  with  modesty,  humility, 
and  piety. 

Yet  though  the  sweetness  and  gentleness  of  her 
demeanour  attracted  universal  admiration,  it  is  an 
unaccountable  fact,  that  she  was  treated  by  her  pa- 


LADY    JANE    GREY.  23 

rents  with  cold  and  stern  severity.  This  led  her  to 
seek  for  happiness  in  the  retirement  of  intellectual 
pursuits ;  and  depressed  by  the  unmerited  chidings 
of  her  parents,  she  returned  with  double  pleasure  to 
the  lessons  of  her  beloved  tutor,  Aylmere,  whose 
gentleness  was  as  a  cordial  to  her  spirit,  crushed  by 
unnatural  austerity.  Yet  her  otvn  reflecting  mind 
perceived  that  this  trial  had  been  sanctified  to  her 
improvement,  and  she  said  cheerfully  to  a  friend, 
"  One  of  the  greatest  benefits  that  God  ever  gave 
me,  was  to  send  me  such  sharp  and  severe  parents, 
and  so  gentle  a  schoolmaster."  This  was  also  one 
of  the  first  incentives  to  that  fervent  and  uniform  pi- 
ety, which  was  so  early  observable  in  her ;  for  check- 
ed in  the  natural  effusions  of  a  susceptible  heart, 
and  chilled  with  rigors,  where  her  first  confidence 
sought  to  repose  itself,  she  found  Him  who  comfort- 
eth  the  mourner,  and  raiseth  up  the  spirits  that  are 
cast  down. 

Childhood,  which  is  so  often  devoted  to  vanity, 
was  in  her  case  marked  with  piety,  and  while  her 
daily  devotions  comforted  and  strengthened  her, 
they  gained  a  visible  blessing  upon  her  pursuits, 
studies  and  attainments.  Her  parentage,  and  situ- 
ation in  life,  sometimes  required  her  attendance  at 
court,  where  her  conversation,  accomplishments 
and  humility,  strongly  awakened  the  admiration  and 
esteem  of  the  young  King  Edward,  who  was  him- 
self a  conspicuous  example  of  virtue,  learning  and 
piety.  Soon  after,  her  father  was  created  Duke  of 
Suffolk,  and  the  father  of  her  future  husband  was 
made  Duke  of  Northumberland.  She  was  married 
to  the  young  liord  Otiilford  Dudley,  May,  1553,  at 
the  age  of  16,  and  the  King,  who  requested  that  the 


24  BIOGRAPHV   OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

nuptials  might  be  celebrated  with  great  pomp,  con- 
tributed liberally  to  their  expenses  from  the  royal 
treasuiy.  But  the  magnificence  and  splendor  of 
this  scene  was  the  last  gleam  of  joy  that  shone  in 
the  palace  of  King  Edward.  His  decline  increas- 
ed— he  withered  and  decayed  like  some  feeble 
and  beautiful  plantt  until  the  6th  of  July,  1553, 
when  he  expired,  beloved  and  lamented.  Religion 
had  long  been  his  guide  and  his  consolation,  and  in 
the  hours  of  his  last  suffering,  its  interests  were  pe- 
culiarly dear.  He  knew  his  sister  Mary  to  be  a 
bigoted  Roman  Catholic,  he  feared  that  the  Protest- 
ant religion  which  he  had  fostered  she  would  crush 
in  its  infancy,  and  trembled  with  a  prophetic  spirit, 
at  the  persecutions  that  would  rage,  and  the  blood 
that  must  flow  if  she  should  be  seated  on  his  throne. 
He  was  led  to  meditate  on  Lady  Jane,  as  his  suc- 
cessor, and  the  strong  solicitations  of  the  Duke  of 
Northumberland,  so  seconded  his  own  choice,  that 
one  of  the  last  acts  of  his  life  was  to  authorize  a 
deed  of  settlement,  signed  by  himself  and  all  the 
Lords  of  the  Council,  in  which  Lady  Jane  Grey 
was  declared  the  rightful  heir  to  the  crown  and  scep- 
tre of  England.  Of  this  she  knew  nothing,  until 
her  father,  and  father-in-law  entered  Durham  Cas- 
tle, and  informed  her  of  her  exaltation,  and  while 
she  struggled  with  astonishment  and  terror,  they,  fal- 
ling on  their  knees,  paid  her  homage  as  queen.  As 
soon  as  she  could  express  herself  audibly  she  en- 
treated them  not  to  persist  in  their  design,  or  for  a 
moment  indulge  a  thought  of  trespassing  on  the 
rights  of  Mary  and  Elizabeth.  "  Shall  I  scruple, 
said  she,  at  the  stealing  of  a  shilling,  and  not  at  the 
usurpation  of  the  crown  ?  Or  shall  I  accept  a  crown 


LADY    JANE    GREY.  25 

violently  \vrestecl  from  Catharine  of  Arragon,  and 
made  more  unfortunate  by  the  punishment  of  Ann 
Boleyn  and  others  that  wore  it  after  her  ?  Why 
will  you  have  me  add  my  blood  to  theirs,  and  be  the 
third  victim  from  whom  that  fatal  thing  has  been 
Avfested,  with  the  head  that  wore  it  ?  Rather  if  you 
love  me  sincerely,  and  so  earnestly  as  you  say,  let 
me  remain  in  a  secure  and  quiet  condition,  and  not 
force  me  into  such  an  exalted  situation,  so  exposed 
to  the  wind,  and  so  likely  to  be  followed  by  some 
dismal  fall.'' 

But  her  arguments  were  disregarded,  and  her  en- 
treaties silenced  by  the  Duke  of  Northumberland, 
who  assured  her  that  all  was  done  according  to  law, 
and  the  wishes  of  the  people  ;  by  the  commands  of 
her  father,  to  which  she  had  ever  been  accustomed 
to  submit ;  by  the  tears  and  intercessions  of  her 
mother,  and  the  ardent  entreaties  of  her  husband, 
whom  she  loved  tenderly,  and  by  whom  she  was 
equally  beloved.  Finding  herself  unable  to  resist, 
with  a  reluctant  and  heavy  heart  she  suffered  her- 
self to  be  conveyed  to  the  Tower,  where  she  was 
immediately  proclaimed,  and  arrayed  with  the  in- 
signia of  royalty.  But  short  indeed,  was  the  date 
of  her  sovereignty ;  on  the  morning  of  the  tenth 
day  commenced  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary,  announ- 
ced by  a  proclamation  in  London.  The  Duke  of 
Suffolk,  entering  her  apartment  with  a  disturbed  air, 
and  a  faultering  tone,  imparted  the  intelligence,  but 
she  received  it  with  a  serene  and  composed  counte- 
nance, and  answered  that  the  message  was  far  less 
painful  than  her  advancement  to  royalty  ;  that  from 
obedience  to  him  she  had  done  violence  to  herself 
and  deeply  sinned,  and  would  now  gladly  make  all 
2* 


26  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

possible  reparation  for  the  error  she  had  conimitled. 

But  immediately  after  her  relinquishment  of  roy- 
alty, her  gentle  heart  was  doomed  to  bleed  at  the 
sight  of  suflerings  which  she  had  innocently  caus- 
ed. Mary,  incensed  and  vindictive,  threw  into  close 
confiinen)ent  the  Dukes  of  Suffolk,  and  aSorthum- 
berland,  and  brought  the  latter  to  the  block.  The 
whole  family  of  ]N  orthumberland  suffered  the  pains 
of  imprisonment,  and  thither  Lady  Jane  and  ^er 
husband  after  their  trial  were  brought,  under  sen- 
tence of  death.  This  amiable  lady  has  hitherto  fur- 
nished us  with  proof  of  uncommon  intellectual  ex- 
cellence and  exhibited  a  sensibility  and  gentleness, 
which  it  is  impossible- not  to  adtnire.  She  will  now 
display  to  us  her  fortitude — greatness  of  soul — con- 
scious rectitude — and  inspiring  piety,  which,  break- 
ing forth  with  brighter  lustre,  shed  unfading  radiance 
upon  her  closing  days.  Neither  repining,  grief  or 
dejection,  sat  upon  her  countenance  :  no  murmur 
escaped  her  lips  that  she  must  thus  be  torn  Irom 
life  and  all  its  enjoyments. 

She  wi-ote  to  her  father  during  her  imprisonment, 
that  she  was  not  only  reconciled  to  the  approaching 
event,  but  thankful  for  it ;  that  however  painful  it 
might  appear  to  him,  nothing  to  her  could  be  more 
welcome,  than  from  this  vale  of  misery  to  aspire  to 
a  seat  with  her  Saviour,  and  she  prayed  that  he 
might  be  so  divinely  preserved  in  the  faith  of  Jesus, 
that  theymight  meet  in  heaven  at  last.  She  spent  her 
imprisonment  in  acts  of  piety  and  devotion,  though 
much  interrupted  by  the  officiousness  of  the  Popish 
priests,  who  were  continually  sent  by  Queen  IVlary, 
to  endeavor  to  convert  her  to  their  faith.  These 
found  her  belief  steadfast,  and  her  arguments  unan- 


LADV    JANE    GREY.  27 

swerablc,  and  having  heard  that  one  of  her  former 
preceptors  had  changed  his  faith,  through  fear  of 
persecution,  she  addressed  to  him  a  most  excellent 
and  convincing  letter.  Towards  the  conclusion  she 
says — "  Come  home  again  like  Mary ;  and  with  Pe- 
ter bitterly  weep.  As,  with  the  lost  son  you  have 
wandered,  be  not  ashamed  with  him  to  return  from 
the  riot  of  strangers,  acknowledging  that  you  have 
sinned  against  Heaven  and  Earth  :  agmnst  one  by 
staining  the  glorious  name  of  God ;  against  the 
other  by  becoming  a  stumbling  block  to  your  weak 
brethren." 

To  her  sister,  the  night  before  her  death,  she 
wrote  a  long  and  valuable  letter  at  the  end  of  a 
Greek  Testament,  which  she  sent  her  as  the  last  me- 
morial of  her  friendship  and  affection.  "  As  to  my 
death,  good  sister,  rejoice  as  I  do,  that  I  shall  be 
delivered  from  this  corruption,  and  put  on  incorrup- 
tion  ;  for  I  am  as-<ured  that  by  losing  a  mortal  I 
shall  gain  immortal  life,  which  I  pray  God  to  grant 
you,  and  send  you  grace  to  live  in  his  fear,  and  to 
die  in  the  true  Christian  faith,  from  which  in  God's 
name,  I  exhort  you  never  to  swen'e,  either  for  hope 
of  Hfe,  or  fear  of  death." 

The  day  appointed  for  the  execution  of  the  two 
innocent  victims  was  February  12th,  1654.  When 
the  fatal  morning  arrived,  Lord  Guilford  Dudley 
earnestly  besought  the  officers  for  liberty  to  take  a 
last  farewell  of  his  beautiful  and  beloved  consort. 
This  was  readily  granted,  but  on  being  notified  to 
her,  she  thought  it  inexpedient,  and  collecting  the 
whole  force  of  her  mind  endeavored  to  dissuade 
him  from  his  purpose.  "  Such  a  meeting,"  she  sent 
him  an  answer,"  would  only  add  to  your  afflictions, 


28  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

and  disturb  the  quiet  with  which  we  ought  to  arm 
our  souls  for  the  stroke  of  death.  You  demand  a 
lenitive  which  will  inflame  the  wound  ;  for  I  fear  my 
presence  will  rather  weaken  than  strengthen  you. — 
If  your  soul  is  not  now  firm  and  composed,  I  can 
neither  settle  it  with  my  eyes,  or  confirm  it  with  my 
words.  Defer  then  this  interview,  until  a  few  mo- 
ments are  past,  and  then  we  meet  in  another  world. 
There  indeed,  friendships  will  be  happy,  and  unions 
indissoluble,  and  ours  doubtless  will  be  eternal,  if 
vve  carry  nothing  terrestrial  with  us  to  hinder  our  re- 
joicing." 

When  she  saw  her  husband  led  out  to  execution, 
she  involuntarily  testified  great  emotion,  but  soon 
overcame  it  by  reflecting  how  soon  she  should  fol- 
low him,  and  giving  him  her  farewell  from  the  win- 
dow, composed  herself  for  the  approaching  solem- 
nity, lie  suffered  on  the  scaffold  with  much  Chris- 
tian meekness  ;  and  his  streaming  body  laid  upon  a 
car,  and  his  severed  head  wrapt  in  a  linen  cloth,  in 
a  few  minutes  after,  passed  under  her  window.  She 
beheld  this  shocking  spectacle  with  a  composed 
countenance,  and  immediately  wrote  in  her  table 
book  three  sentences  in  Latin,  Greek  and  English. 
This  book  she  presented  to  Sir  John  Bridges,  Lieu- 
tenant of  the  Tower,  as  a  grateful  acknowledgment 
of  his  kindness  during  her  imprisonment.  The 
Greek  sentence  was,  ■"  If  this  slain  body  shall  give 
sentence  against  me  before  men,  his  most  blessed 
soul  shall  render  eternal  proof  of  my  innocence  in 
the  presence  of  God."  The  Latin,  "  The  justice 
of  man  destroyed  his  body  ;  but  the  mercy  of  God 
has  preserved  his  soul."  The  English,  "  If  my 
fault  deserved  this  punishment,  my  youth  and  my 


LADY    JANE    GREV.  29 

imprudence  admit  at  least  of  excuse.  God  and  pos- 
terity will  show  me  favor." 

She  proceeded  to  the  scaffold  with  a  serene  and 
sweet  countenance,  fixuig  her  eyes  upon  a  book  of 
prayers,  and  paying  little  atttention  to  the  discourses 
of  the  Popist  priest  who  followed  her.  She  addres- 
sed a  short  speech  to  the  people  who  surrounded 
her,  kneeled  dowTi  and  repeated  the  51st  Psalm  in  a 
most  devout  manner,  mildly  gave  her  forgiveness  to 
the  executioner,  who  kneeling  entreated  it,  suffered 
herself  to  be  disrobed  by  her  women,  and  laying 
her  head  upon  the  block  said,  "  Lord,  into  thine 
hands  I  commend  my  spirit."  Thus  perished  this 
amiable  being  at  the  age  of  seventeen.  Among 
her  devotional  papers  Ls  found  a  prayer,  written  in 
the  time  of  her  adversity,  with  some  extracts  of 
which  I  close  this  imperfect  account  of  a  most  in- 
teresting and  admirable  character. 

"  O  Lord,  thou  God  and  Father  of  my  life  !  hear 
me,  a  poor  and  desolate  woman,  who  fly  to  thee 
alone  in  all  troubles  and  miseries.  Thou,  0  Lord, 
art  the  only  defender  and  deliverer  of  those  who  put 
their  trust  in  thee  :  and  therefore  I,  being  defiled 
with  sin,  encumbered  with  afflictions,  disquieted 
with  troubles,  wrapped  in  cares,  overwhelmed  with 
miseries,  and  grievously  tormented  with  long  im- 
prisonment in  this  vile  body  of  clay,  do  come  unto 
thee,  merciful  Saviour,  craving  thy  mercy  and  help, 
Mrithout  which  so  little  hope  of  deliverance  is  left, 
that  I  may  utterly  despair.  Although  it  is  expedi- 
ent that  we  should  be  visited  with  adversity,  where- 
by we  may  both  be  tried  whether  we  be  of  thy  flock 
or  not,  and  also  know  thee  and  ourselves  better,  yet 
thou  who  saidst  thou  wouldst  not  suffer  us  to  be 


30  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

tempted  above  our  power,  be  merciful  unto  me,  a 
miserable  creature. 

I  beseech  thee,  that  I  may  neither  be  too  much 
lifted  up  with  prosperity,  or  too  much  pressed  down 
with  adversity.  O  merciful  God,  consider  my  mis- 
ery, best  known  to  thee,  and  be  thou  now  to  me  a 
strong  tower  of  defence,  1  humbly  entreat  thee.  Suf- 
fer me  not  to  be  tempted  above  my  power  ; — but  ei- 
ther deliver  me  from  this  great  misery,  or  give  me 
grace  to  bear  patiently  thy  sharp  correction.  It  was 
thine  hand  that  delivered  the  people  of  Israel  from 
Pharoah,  who  for  400  years  did  oppress,  and  keep 
them  in  bondage.  Give  me  grace  to  tarry  until  thy 
pleasure,  patiently  bearing  thy  work,  and  assuredly 
knowing  that  as  thou  canst,  so  thou  wilt  deUver  me, 
when  it  shall  please  thee  ;  nothing  doubting  or  mis- 
trusting thy  goodness  unto  me  ;  for  thou  knowest 
better  what  is  good  for  me  than  I  do  ;  therefore  do 
with  me  in  all  things  as  thou  wilt.  Only  arm  me,  I 
beseech  thee,  with  thine  armor,  that  I  may  stand 
fast ;  my  loins  being  girt  about  with  verity,  having 
on  the  breast  plate  of  righteousness,  and  the  shoes 
of  the  gospel  of  peace  ;  above  all  things  taking  the 
shield  of  faith,  and  the  helmet  of  salvation,  and  the 
sword  of  the  Spirit,  which  is  the  word  of  God  ;  pray- 
ing always,  with  all  manner  of  prayer  and  supplica- 
tion, that  I  may  refer  myself  wholly  to  thy  will,  a- 
bide  in  thy  pleasure,  and  comfort  myself  in  those 
troubles  which  it  shall  please  thee  to  send  me,  see- 
ing such  troubles  are  profitable  for  me,  and  seeing  I 
am  assuredly  persuaded,  that  it  cannot  but  be  well 
— all  that  thou  dost.  Hear  me,  O  merciful  Father, 
for  his  sake  whom  thou  wouldst  to  be  a  sacrifice  for 


LADT    JANE    GREY.  31 

my  sins  ;  to  whom,  with  thee,  and  the  Holy  Ghost, 
be  all  honor  and  glory. — Amen." 

In  the  place  of  her  gloomy  confinement  she  en- 
graved with  a  pin,  the  following  lines. 

"  Think  not,  O  mortal,  vainly  gay, 
That  thou  from  human  woes  art  free  ; 

The  bitter  cup  I  drink  to-day 

To-morrow  may  be  drank  by  thee. 

Harmless  is  malice  if  our  God  be  nigh; 

Fruitless  all  pains  if  he  his  help  deny. 

Patient  I  pass  these  gloorny  hours  away, 

And  wait  the  morning  of  Eternal  Day." 

I  cannot  forbear  transcribing  the  concise  and  ele- 
gant character  given  of  her  by  Mr.  Fuller.  "  She 
had  the  innocence  of  childhood,  the  beauty  of  youth, 
the  solidity  of  middle  life — and  all  at  17.  She  had 
the  birth  of  a  princess,  the  learning  of  a  divine,  and 
the  life  of  a  saint ;  and  yet  suffered  the  death  of  a 
malefactor,  for  the  offences  of  her  parents." 


PHILIP  DE  MORNAY, 

LORD    DU    PLESSIS. 


Philip  de  Mornay,  an  illustrious  French  no- 
bleman, was  descended  from  an  ancient  family, 
which  had  produced  many  eminent  men, 

1549.  and  born  Nov-  5,  1549.  His  education 
was  conducted  with  the  utmost  care ; 
tutors  were  provided  for  him  in  all  languages  and 
sciences,  and  his  progress  was  such  as  might  be 
expected  from  a  superior  genius,  with  close  appli- 
cation. While  his  young  mind  was  forming,  his 
mother,  who  was  a  Protestant,  insensibly  inspired  it 
with  her  own  principles,  jind  laid  true  religion  as 
the  foundation  of  his  future  fame.  His  zeal 
against  popery  exposed  him  partially  to  the  perse- 
cutions which  the  Huguenots  experienced,  and  he 
and  his  mother  very  narrowly  escaped  the  diaboli- 
cal massacre  at  Paris. 

His  youth  was  divided  between  a  military  life, 
which  the  state  of  his  country  seemed  to  require, 
and  travels  into  foreign  parts,  where  his  stock  of 
knowledge  gained  an  immense  increase.  In  his 
maturity,  he  was  called  to  the  perplexing  cares  of  a 
statesman,  and  found  himself  high  in  office  and  in 
honor,  at  tlie  court  of  Henry  the  Fourth  of  France. 

Amidst  the  whelming  vortex  of  public  life,  he 
found  time  and  attention  for  study  and  literary  pur- 


PHILIP    DE    MORNAY.  83 

suits.  In  his  26th  year  he  married,  and  pubhshed 
the  same  year  a  moral  treatise  on  "  Life  and  Death," 
and  at  different  periods  completed,  a  number  of 
valuable  literary  works.  His  treatise  "  concerning 
the  church,"  was  an  explanation  of  the  motives  that 
induced  him  to  renounce  the  Romish  for  the  Pro- 
testant faith.  Then  followed  his  "  Truth  of  the 
Christian  Religion  ;"  the  "  Just  Procedure  of  those 
of  the  Reformed  Religion  ;"  and  "  The  Eucharist." 
The  latter  work  occasioned  the  conference  at  Fon- 
tainbleau,  in  the  year  1600,  between  Du  Plessis 
and  a  celebrated  Romish  Cardinal,  which  so  exalted 
the  reputation  and  popularity  of  Du  Plessis,  that  he 
was  known  by  the  title  of  the  "  Protestant  Pope." 
He  produced  in  1607,  a  work  named  "The  Mystery 
of  Iniquity,  or  History  of  the  Papacy,"  which  traced 
the  gradual  progress  of  ecclesiastical  tyranny,  com- 
pared with  Scripture  prophecies. 

About  the  same  time,  he  published  his  "  Exhor- 
tation to  the  Jews,  concerning  the  Messiah."  But 
the  production  that  gained  the  most  distinguished 
rank  in  the  literary  and  Christian  world,  was  his 
"  Defence  of  the  truth  of  the  Christian  Religion," 
in  which  he  employs  the  weapons  of  reason  and  of 
learning,  with  great  force  and  skill  against  atheists, 
epicureans,  heathens,  Jews,  Mohammedans  and 
infidels.  All  his  literary  works  exhibited  marks  of 
genius,  piety,  and  deep  research,  and  were  most  of 
them  written  in  French  first,  and  tlien  translated  in- 
to Latin. 

He  spent  the  two  last  years  of  his  life  at  his 

barony  of  La  Forest,  in  Poictou,  in  retirement, 

study  and  devotion.     In  his  last  illness  his  mind 

was  greatly  concerned  for  the  distresses  of  the  Pro- 

3 


34  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

testant  church,  and  many  of  his  seasons  of  devo- 
tion were  employed  in  suppHcating  her  deHverance. 
When  he  was  j-eminded  of  his  great  services  to  the 
church,  he  replied,  "  alas  !  what  was  there  of  mine 
in  the  work  1  Say  not  it  was  /,  but  the  gra^e  of 
God  that  was  in  me.  I  ask  for  nothing  but  mercy 
— free  mercy."  He  declared  that  his  hope  was 
founded  on  the  goodness  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ, 
who  had  been  made  unto  him  wisdom,  righteous- 
ness, sanctification  and  redemption.  To  one  who 
blessed  God  for  giving  him  such  peace  and  comfort 
in  death,  he  said  earnestly,  "  /  feel,  I  feel  what  I 
speak." 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  in  which  he  died,  he 
repeated  with  great  emphasis,  "  We  hnoiv  that  if  our 
earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  be  dissolved,  we 
have  a  building  of  God,  an  house  not  made  with 
hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens."  "  Are  you  assured," 
said  a  friend,  "  of  sharing  in  that  eternal  weight  of 
glory  1"  "  I  am  perfectly  assured,"  answered  he, 
"  by  the  demonstration  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  more 
powerfully,  more  clear  and  certain,  than  any  demon- 
stration of  Euclid."  As  he  secretly  prayed,  the 
following  broken  sentences  were  gathered  by  sur- 
rounding friends.  "  I  fly,  I  fly  to  heaven.  Let  the 
angels  now  carry  me  to  the  bosom  of  my  Saviour." 
As  his  last  moments  vanished,  he  said,  "  I  know 
that  my  Redeemer  hveth,  and  with  these  eyes  shall 
I  see  him  ;"  repeating  several  times  emphatically, 
"  hipse  oculis.^' 

Thus  in  the  lively  exercise  of  faith  died  this  good 
man,  in  1623,  great  in  honors,  venerable  in  years, 
and  full  of  unspeakable  peace. 


SIR  FRANCIS  BACON. 


Francis  Bacon  was  the  son  of  Sir  Nicholas 
Bacon,  lord  keeper  of  the  great  seal,  in  the  reign  of 
Ehzabeth,  and  of  Anna,  the  daughter  of  Sir  Anthony 
Cooke,  illustrious  both  for  her  classical  attainments 
and  domestic  virtues.     He  was  born  in 
1661.     the  year  1661, and  so  rapid  werehis  advan- 
ces in  the  different  branches  of  science, 
that  he  was  judged  qualified  for  the  university  at  the 
age  of  12  years,  and  placed  at  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge.   Here  he  made  such  incredible  progress 
as  to  complete  the  whole  circle  of  the  liberal  arts 
before  the  age  of  16,  and  to  perceive,  even  at  that 
early  period,  the  futility  and  imperfection  of  the 
reigning  philosophy,  which  afterwards,  for  the  service 
of  mankind,  he  so  efTectually  exposed. 

Leaving  the  university  with  the  highest  applause, 
he  was  sent  on  his  travels,  and  there  acquired  a  deep, 
and  almost  intuitive  knowledge  of  the  manners  and 
customs  of  other  countries,  the  characters  and  views 
of  their  princes  and  ministers,  which  he  exemplified 
in  a  paper  on  the  sreneral  state  of  Europe,  pubhshed 
before  he  attained  his  19(h  year.  During  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth,  the  strong  enmity  of  Sir  Robert  Cecil 
prevented  his  being  advanced  at  court ;  hence  he 
prosecuted  philosophical  studies  with  energy,  and 


36  BIOGUAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

gave  his  time  to  the  composition  and  publication  of 
learned  works. 

In  the  reign  of  the  First  James,  he  was  called 
from  the  retirement  of  his  studies,  to  the  disturbed 
theatre  of  public  life.  In  1614,  he  was  appointed 
attorney  general, — iu  1616,  privy  counsellor, — in 
1617,  lord  keeper  of  the  seals.  But  the  rapidity  of 
his  promotion  excited  envy  in  the  ambitious,  and 
hatred  in  the  disappointed  rival ;  and  he  began  to 
feel  that  the  cares  of  high  office,  only  opened  the 
way  for  more  formidable  causes  of  pain.  He  had 
scarcely  attained  the  dangerous  summit  of  honor, 
when  he  was  hurled  from  it,  with  the  impeachment 
of  his  honesty,  and  with  the  accusation  of  error  in 
his  character  of  chief  judge.  Different  historians 
have  differently  colored  this  event,  according  to  their 
particular  attachments  or  prejudices  ;  but  the  candid 
and  judicious  have  believed  him  a  martyr,  more  than 
a  criminal,  and  have  seen  in  his  sudden  disgrace  an 
exemplification  of  Shakespeare's  expressive  senti- 
ment,— 

"Ah  how  wretched 
Is  that  poor  man  who  hangs  on  jjiinccs'  favors !" 

The  reflecting  mind  may  also  perceive  the  hand 
of  God,  taking  him  from  those  scenes  which  often 
corrupt  the  noblest  soul,  compress  it  in  the  bonds  of 
the  world,  and  ahenate  it  from  its  God.  May  we 
not  apply  to  him  that  beautiful  passage  from  the 
book  of  wisdom  ? — "  He  was  taken  away  suddenly, 
lest  wickedness  should  alter  his  understanding,  or 
deceit  beguile  his  soul."  Imprisonment  gave  him 
leisure  to  review  his  past  life,  to  confirm  his  princi- 
ples and  habits,  to  renew  the  fervor  of  his  devotion. 
From  prison  he  passed  to  the  shades  of  a  literary 


srR    FRANCIS    BACON.  37 

and  contemplative  life,  which  he  had  always  loved, 
and  from  which  he  had  been  unfortunately  called. 
Experimental  philosophy  again  allured  his  genius, 
and  employed  his  time,  and  his  investigations  contin- 
ued to  lead  his  mind  powerfully  to  the  First  Cause 
of  the  wonders  and  mysteries  of  Nature. 

He  observes  in  his  works,  that  "a  thorough  in- 
sight into  philosophy  makes  a  good  believer,  but  a 
smattering  naturally  produces  a  race  of  despicable 
infidels.  I"  had  rather  believe  all  the  fables  in  the 
Legend,  the  Talmud,  and  the  Alcoran,  than  that-  this 
universal  frame  is  without  a  mind:  and  therefore  God 
never  wrought  a  miracle  to  convert  an  atheist,  be- 
cause his  ordinary  works  confute  atheism.  A  little 
philosophy  may  incline  men  to  atheism,  but  depth  in 
philosophy  will  bring  them  to  religion  :  for  while  the 
mind  looks  on  second  causes  scattered,  it  must 
sometimes  rest  in  them,  but  when  it  beholds  the 
chain  confederated  and  linked  together,  it  must 
needs  fly  to  Providence  and  the  Deity.  The  first 
principle  of  right  reason  is  religion,  and  after  all  my 
studies  and  inquiries,  I  durst  die  with  no  other 
thoughts  than  those  of  the  Christian  ReUgion." 

While  this  active  man  waspursuing  his  researches, 
and  anxiously  studying  the  mysteries  in  which  Na- 
ture has  enveloped  her  operations,  he  was  suddenly 
taken  ill,  at  Highgate,  in  the  midst  of  his  experi- 
ments. He  was  conveyed  to  the  house  of  the  Earl 
of  Anmdel  in  the  vicinity,  and  after  a  week's  sick- 
ness, breathed  his  last  on  the  9th  of  April,  1626. 
So  passed  away  a  philosopher, — a  mim  of  genius — 
science — penetration — deep  research  ; — and  what  is 
still  more, — a  Christian. 

Addison,  in  vindication  of  tlie  Christian  religion, 
3* 


38  BIOGRAPHY   OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

having  enumerated  some  of  the  wisest  men  who  had 
believed  and  practised  it,  gives  this  testimony  of 
Bacon;  "I  shall  in  this  paper  only  instance  a  man, 
who  for  the  greatness  of  his  genius,  and  compass  of 
his  knowledge,  did  honor  to  his  age  and  country,  I 
had  almost  said  to  human  nature  itself.  He  pos- 
sessed at  once,  all  those  extraordinary  talents  which 
were  divided  among  the  great  authors  of  antiquity  ; 
he  had  the  sound,  distinct  knowledge  of  Aristotle, 
with  all  the  beautiful  light  graces  emd  embellishments 
of  Gicero :  one  does  not  know  which  to  admire 
most  in  his  writings  ;  the  strength  of  reason,  force 
of  style,  or  brightness  of  imagination.  I  was  infi- 
nitely pleased  to  find  among  the  works  of  this  extra- 
ordinary man,  a  prayer  of  his  own  composing,  which 
for  elevation  of  thought,  and  piety  of  expression, 
seems  rather  the  devofion  of  an  angel  than  a  man." 
But  our  present  design  is  not  to  follow  the  flight 
of  his  genius,  or  the  depth  of  his  philosophical  re- 
searches ;  they  are  preserved  for  the  wonder  and 
admiration  of  posterity.  We  come  to  view  him  in 
his  devotions ;  for  he  possessed  that  spirit  which 
Yeason  approves,  and  revelation  purifies  and  exalts, 
we  come  to  view  him  as  his  own  private  i>age  dis- 
closes him,  prostrate  before  the  mercy  seat,  humbled 
by  the  afflictions  which  lay'heavy  upon  him,  yet  sup- 
ported by  a  sense  of  his  integrity,  and  love  of  man- 
kind, and  proving  that  the  experience  of  the  Psalmist 
was  his  also :  "It  is  good  for  me  to  draw  nigh  unto 
God." 

Ji  Prayer  preserved  among  his  Manuscripts. 
"Most  Gracious  Lord  God,  my  Merciful  Father, 


SIR.  FRANCIS    BACON.  89 

my  Creator,  my  Redeemer,  and  my  Comforter. 
Thou,  0  Lord,  searchest  the  depths  and  secrets  of 
all  hearts ;  thou  acknowledgest  the  upright  of  heart, 
thou  judgest  the  hypocrite :  thou  ponderest  man's 
thoughts  and  doings  as  in  a  balance ;  thou  measur- 
est  their  intentions  as  with  a  line ;  vanity  and  crooked 
ways  cannot  be  hidden  from  thee.  Remember,  0 
Lord,  how  thy  servant  has  walked  before  thee ; 
remember  what  I  have  sought,  and  what  has  .been 
principal  in  my  intentions.  I  have  loved  thine 
assembUes,  I  have  mourned  for  the  divisions  of  thy 
church,  I  have  delighted  in  the  brightness  of  thy 
sanctuary  ;  the  vine  which  thy  right  hand  hath  planted 
in  this  nation,  I  have  ever  prayed  unto  thee  that  it 
might  have  the  first  and  the  latter  rain,  and  that  she 
might  stretch  her  branches  to  the  sea  and  to  the 
flood.  The  state  and  bread  of  the  poor  and  op- 
pressed, have  been  precious  in  mine  eyes  ;  I  have 
hated  all  cruelty  and  hardness  of  heart :  I  have, 
though  a  despised  weed,  procured  the  good  of  all 
men.  If  any  have  been  enemies,  I  thought  not  of 
them  ;  neither  hath  the  sun  set  upon  my  displeasure, 
but  I  have  been  as  a  dove,  free  from  all  superfluity 
of  maliciousness.  Thousand  have  been  my  sins, 
and  ten  thousand  my  transgressions ;  but  thy  sancti- 
fications  .have  remained  with  me,  and  mine  heart, 
through  thy  grace,  hath  been  an  miquenched  coal  on 
thine  altar. 

0  Lord  my  strength! — I  have  since  my  youth 
met  with  thee  in  all  ray  ways,  by  thy  fatherly  com- 
passions, by  thy  comfortable  chastisements,  by  thy 
visible  providences.  As  thy  favors  have  increased 
upon  me,  so  have  thy  corrections ;  so  as  thou  hast 
always  been  near  me,  0  Lord ;  and  ever  as  my 


40  BIOGRAPHY    OF     PIOUS    PERSONS. 

worldly  blessings  were  exalted,  so  secret  daits  from 
thee  have  pierced  me;  and  when  I  ha\e  ascended 
before  men,  I  have  descended  in  liuniiliation  before 
thee. 

And  now,  when  I  thought  most  of  peace  and 
honor,  thine  hand  is  heavy  upon  nie,  and  hath  hum- 
bled me  according  to  thy  former  loving  kindness, 
keeping  me  still  in  thy  school,  not  as  an  alien,  but  a 
child.  Just  are  thy  judgments  upon  me  for  my 
sins,  which  are  more  in  number  than  the  sands  of  the 
sea,  but  have  no  proporlion  to  thy  mercies :  for 
what  are  the  sands  of  the  sea  1  Karth,  heavens, 
and  all  these,  are  nothing  to  thy  mercies  !  I  confess 
before  thee,  that  I  am  debtor  to  thee  for  the  precious 
talent  of  thy  gifts  and  graces,  wiiich  I  have  neither 
put  into  a  napkin,  or  put  out  as  I  ought,  to  exchan- 
gers, where  it  might  have  made  best  profit ;  but 
misspent  it  in  things  for  which  I  was  least  fit ;  so  I 
may  truly  say,  my  soul  hath  been  a  stranger  in  the 
house  of  her  pilgrimage.  Be  merciful  unto  me, 
0  Lord,  for  my  tiaviour's  sake  ;  and  receive  n.e 
unto  thy  bosom,  or  guide  me  in  thy  nay."' 


JOIIX  MILTOJT. 


John  Milton,  a  most  illustrious  English  Poet, 
was  descended  from  an  ancient  family.  His  g^:and- 
father,  a  zealous  Papist,  disinherited  his  only  son, 
the  father  of  our  poet,  for  embracing  the  Protestant 
faith.  He  took  refuge  in  London,  and  obtained  the 
employment  of  a  scrivener ;  and  in  that 

1608.  place,  on  the  9th  of  December,  1608, 
was  bom  his  first  son,  John  Milton. 

After  receiving  a  domestic  education,  he  was  re- 
moved to  St.  Paul's  School,  where  by  indefatigable 
application  he  made  great  progress  in  classical 
learning ;  and  from  the  1 2th  year  of  his  age  devot- 
ed the  greatest  part  of  the  night  to  study.  In  his 
16th  year  he  was  admitted  to  Christ's  College,  Cam- 
bridge, where  he  continued  seven  years,  strengthen- 
ing the  foundation  which  he  had  previously  laid,  and 
erecting  thereon  a  superstructure  which  should  con- 
tain the  whole  circle  of  arts  and  sciences.  He  had 
composed  some  beautiful  Latin  Poems,  previous  to 
his  entrance  at  the  University ;  and  the  greatest  part 
of  his  compositions  in  that  language,  were  produced 
during  the  period  of  his  continuance  there.  After 
his  emancipation  he  returned  to  his  father,  and 
prosecuted  his  studies  for  5  years  with  unparalleled 
assiduity  and  success,  and  read  with  renewed  atten- 


42  BIOGUAPHV    OF     P[OL'S    PERSONS. 

tion  all  the  Greek  and  Latin  authors.  His  father 
had  de.signed  him  for  the  church ;  but  hiy  mind  had 
been  so  disgusted  with  the  controversies  of  difterent 
sects,  tliat  this  intention  was  frustrated. 

After  the  death  of  his  mother,  he  began  his  trav- 
els, through  France  and  Italy,  with  the  spirit  of  a 
studious  inquirer,  seeking  to  gain  from  the  customs 
and  curiosities  of  other  countries  something  to  in- 
crease his  cherished  stock  of  knowledge.  He 
gained  many  admirers,  particularly  at  Florence, 
where  his  literary  attainments  were  highly  applaud- 
ed. In  his  second  journey  to  Rome,  he  was  in- 
formed that  the  Jesuits  were  incensed  against  him, 
for  the  freedom  of  his  discourse  on  religious  sub- 
jects, and  was  cautioned  to  beware  of  their  malice. 
"  I  have  made  it  a  rule,"  said  Milton, "  never  to  start 
a  religious  subject  in  this  country,  but  if  I  were 
questioned  concerning  my  faith,  never  to  dissemble, 
whatever  I  might  suffer."  "  He  had,"  says  a  writer 
of  celebrity,  "  a  soul  above  disguise  and  dissimula- 
tion, and  was  never  ashamed  or  afraid  to  vindicate 
the  truth ;  for  he  had  in  him  the  spirit  of  an  old 
martyr." 

His  purpose  was  to  have  visited  Sicily  and 
Greece,  but  receiving  intelligence  of  the  civil  con- 
tentions in  his  own  country,  he  felt  it  inconsistent 
with  his  principles  to  continue  abroad,  even  for  the 
improvement  of  his  mind,  while  his  countrvmen 
were  struggling  for  liberty  at  home.  He  returned, 
and  engaged  ardently  in  the  cause  of  republicanisin, 
for  his  powerful  and  independent  mind  was  di:<gust- 
ed  with  the  yoke  and  trappings  of  royalty. 

He  undertook,  also,  tlie  education  of  a  small 
number  ot  young  men,  and  like  many  other  great 


JOHN    MILTON.  43 

characters,  delighted  in  impressing  on  the  unformed 
mind,  the  principles  of  knowledge  and  virtue.  His 
method  of  education  was  as  much  superior  to  the 
{)edantry  and  jargon  of  common  schooLs,  as  his  ge- 
nius was  superior  to  that  of  a  common  schoolmas- 
ter. His  letter  to  Mr.  Samuel  Hartlib,  elucidates 
in  some  measure  his  own  method  and  practice. 

The  controversies  of  the  times  began  to  engage 
him,  and  in  the  course  of  the  year  1641,  he  wrote 
and  published,  a  treatise  of  Reformation,  in  two  vol- 
umes; prelatical  Episcopacy;  the  Reason  of  Church 
Government  urged  against  Prelacy ;  and  animad- 
versions upon  a  work  of  Bishop  Hall.  When  we 
consider  that  these  books  were  all  completed,  with- 
in the  short  circle  of  a  year — of  a  year  given  also 
to  the  instruction  of  young  persons  in  the  Lktin, 
Greek,  Hebrew,  Chaldee,  Syriac,  Italian  and 
PVench  languages,  with  the  sciences  of  mathemat- 
ics and  astronomy,  we  are  astonished  at  what  his 
diligence  accomplished,  and  amazed  at  what  his 
mind  could  contain. 

In  1 643  he  married  ;  but  whatever  were  his  en- 
gagements, literature  and  poetry  were  not  long  ab- 
sent from  his  thoughts.  In  1645  a  collection  of  his 
Latin  and  Knglisli  poems  appeared,  in  which  the 
Allegro,  Pcnseroso,  and  some  others  were  first  pub- 
lished. Controversies,  theological  and  political, 
with  many  adversaries,  particularly  the  celebrated 
Salmasius,  employed  much  of  his  time.  After 
the  tragical  death  of  Charles  First,  a  book  was  pub- 
lished by  one  of  his  adherents,  entitled  The  Royal 
Image :  which  excited  greater  emotion  and  com- 
miseration in  the  minds  of  the  people,  than  the 
King  himself  did,  while  alive.  Milton  answered  it 
with  energy  and  success,  entitling  his  work,  "  Ico- 


44  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

noclastes"  or,  The  Image  Breaker,  the  surname  of 
some  Greek  Emperors,  who  in  their  zeal  against 
idolatry,  broke  all  superstitious  images  to  pieces. 

But  to  enumerate  and  give  the  character  of  his 
controversial  works  would  be  an  impossibility,  and 
I  cannot  but  regret  that  a  man  of  his  talents  and 
erudition,  should  employ  so  much  of  his  time  in 
compositions  of  local  value,  which  though  they  are 
strongly  marked  with  the  spirit  of  the  times,  and  the 
power  of  a  great  genius,  do  not  essentiallylnstruct 
or  benefit  posterity. 

He  had  begun  a  History  of  England,  deduced 
from  the  earliest  period,  but  proceeded  no  farther 
than  the  Norman  Conquest ;  a  call  to  the  office  of 
Latin  Secretary  for  foreign  affairs  put  a  partial  check 
upon  his  private  studies.  A  personal  calamity  also 
afflicted  him  ;  his  eye  sight  had  long  been  weak  and 
decaying,  while  his  intense  studies  only  increased  the 
malady.  The  sight  of  his  left  eye  first  failed  him, 
and  about  the  year  1648,  he  became  totally  blind. 
In  a  letter  to  his  physician,  marlung  the  progress  of 
this  affliction,  he  says — "  a  constant  and  settled 
darkness  is  before  me,  as  well  by  day  as  by  night ; 
a  direct  blackness,  or  else  spotted  and  woven  with 
ash-color,  is  used  to  pour  itself  on  me,  except  now 
and  then,  the  eye  rolling  itself  a  little,  seems  to  ad- 
mit, I  know  not  what  little  smallness  of  light  as 
through  a  chink."     Or  to  use  his  pathetic  words — 

"  Hail,  holy  light — Offspring  of  Heaven! — but  thou 

Revisit'st  not  these  eves,  that  roll  in  vain 

To  find  thy  piercing  ray  and  find  no  dawn. 

Seasons  return,  but  not  to  me  return 

Day,  or  the  sweet  approach  of  even  or  morn, 

Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom,  or  summer's  rose, 

Or  flocks,  or  herds,  or  human  face  divine." 


JOHN   MILTON.  46 

Other  afflictions  also  awaited  him.  The  excru* 
ciatiiig  pains  of  the  gout  completed  the  ruin  of  his 
constitution,  and  led  him  to  the  tomb.  He  sulFered 
great  jiecuniary  losses  in  the  civil  wars,  and  after 
the  re-establishment  of  monarchy  lost  his  office  of 
Latin  Secretary,  and  narrowly  escaped  imprison- 
ment and  trial,  for  his  attachment  to  republican  prin- 
ciples. He  met  also  with  domestic  vexations ;  his 
first  wife  disliking  his  retired  and  studious  Ufe,  went 
again  to  the  gaiety  of  her  father's  house,  refusing  to 
remain  with  him  ;  but  at  length  returned  of  her  own 
accord,  and  obtained  reconciliation.  The  second, 
whose  sweetness  and  goodness  he  commends,  died 
in  a  few  months  after  marriage ;  and  the  third,  who 
survived  him,  was  a  woman  of  a  violent  spirit 

But  no  trouble,  pecuniary,  domestic  or  personal, 
could  turn  his  attention  or  his  love  from  his  studies ; 
for  his  mind  was  too  eager  to  be  diverted,  and  too 
strong  to  be  subdued.  Afler  the  Restoration  he 
spent  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  retirement,  and 
closely  applied  himself  to  finish  Paradise  Lost,  which 
he  began  to  reduce  to  its  present  form  in  1655,  and 
published  in  1 677.  Poetry,  music  and  mathemat- 
ics, were  his  favorite  amusements  ;  and  he  excelled 
in  the  studies  of  logic,  history  and  divinity.  He 
read  in  many  languages,  and  was  complete  master 
of  the  Greek,  Latin,  Hebrew,  Chaldee,  Syriac,  Ital- 
ian, French  and  Spanish.  He  had  a  quick  appre- 
hension, a  sublime  imagination,  a  strong  memory,  a 
piercing  judgment,  a  wit  always  ready  and  adapted 
to  the  occasion. 

It  was  his  belief  that  his  loss  of  sight  added  vigor 
to  his  mental  iiiculties,  by  turning  his  attention  from 
frivolous  objects  and  concentrating  tlic  energies  of 
4 


46  BIOGRAPHY    or    I'lOUS    PERSOMS. 

his  soul.  He  had  the  advantage  of  a  pious  educa- 
tion, and  all  his  writings,  whether  poetry  or  prose, 
whether  written  in  youth,  maturity  or  age,  deeply 
evidence  a  religious  turn  of  mind.  He  studied  and 
admired  the  Holy  Scriptures  above  all  books  what- 
ever, expressed  the  profoundest  reverence  for  the 
Deity  in  all  his  words  and  actions,  and  was  full  of 
the  spirit  of  religion. 

While  we  contemplate  the  mental  excellences  of 
men,,  we  naturally  form  some  image  or  associate 
some  idea  of  their  i)ersonal  appearance.  From  a 
very  ancient  writer  I  accordingly  extract  this  des- 
cription. "  In  youth,  Milton  was  esteemed  very 
beautiful,  and  while  he  was  a  student  in  Cambridge, 
went  by  the  name  of  the  Lady  of  Chiist's  College. 
He  had  a  very  fine  skin,  and  fresh  complexion  ; 
his  hair  was  of  a  light  brown,  and  parting  on  the 
forehead,  hung  down  in  cmls  waving  upon  his 
shoulders ;  his  features  were  exact  and  regular ; 
his  vtice  agreeable  and  musical ;  his  deport- 
ment erect  and  manly.  lie  was  middle  sized,  and 
well  proportioned,  neither  tall  or  short,  lean  or  cor- 
pulent ;  strong  and  active  in  his  younger  years,  and 
though  ever  afflicted  with  severe  head  aches,  and 
finally  with  blindness  and  gout,  was  still  a  comely 
and  well  lookhig  man  to  the  last.  His  eyes  were 
of  a  light  blue  color,  and  after  he  lost  the  sight  of 
them,  which  happened  in  his  43d  year,  they  still  ap- 
peared without  t-pot  or  blemish. 

The  number  ot'  his  written  works  was  40,  many 
in  the  Latin  language,  and  some  consisting  of  seve- 
ral volumes.  His  sonnets,  epigrams  and  letters  are 
also  numerous,  tuid  the  immense  proportion  of 
writing  done  iu  his  office  of  Latin  Secretary  for 
foreign  affairs,   during  (he   reign  of  Cromwell  and 


JOHN    Mir.TON.  47 

the  CommonwcaHh,  it  is  impossible  to  calculate. — 
But  intense  habits  of  study,  and  the  crnol  rava- 
ges of  the  gout,  were  daily,  weakening  his  hold 
upon  life.  In  his  66th  year,  on  the  10th  of  No- 
vember, 1674,  he  died  by  a  quiet  and  silent  expira- 
tion, without  a  groan,  a  struggle  or  a  sigh. 

Three  daughters  by  his  first  wife  survived  him  ; 
the  only  chikl  of  his  second  wife  died  with  her,  and 
his  third  had  none.  His  only  son  died  an  infant, 
and  his  last  descendant,  the  youngest  daughter  of 
Milton's  youngest,  was  found  some  time  in  the  last 
century,  living  in  great  obscurity  and  poverty.  The 
bounty  of  a  generous  people  made  the  decline  of  her 
life  comfortable,  from  veneration  to  the  memory  of 
her  grandfather  ;  but  his  line  is  now  wholly  extinct. 

Of  all  the  voluminous  writings  of  Milton,  that 
of  Paradise  Lost,  has  the  most  greatly  contributed 
to  establish  his  fame,  and  gain  the  admiration  of 
posterity.  He  has  scorned  the  aid  of  other  poets, 
and  piirsued  a  tract  of  originality,  borne  on  the  wings 
of  his  own  strong  and  aspiring  genius.  Dr.  John- 
son says,  "  from  his  cotemporaries,  he  neither 
courted  or  received  support ;  there  is  in  his  writings, 
nothing  by  which  the  pride  of  other  authors  might 
be  gratified,  or  their  favor  gained ;  no  exchange  of 
praise,  no  solicitation  of  support.  His  great  works 
were  performed  under  discountenance  and  in  blind- 
ness, but  difficulties  vanished  at  his  touch  ;  he  was 
bom  for  whatever  is  arduous."  Hayley,  one  of  his 
biographers,  says,  "  Milton  was  perhaps  of  all  mor- 
tals the  least  selfish ;  he  contended  for  religion 
without  seeking  emoluments  from  the  church,  and 
for  the  state  without  aiming  at  civil  or  military  em- 
ployment.    There  is  one  rjfiaracteristic  of  this  great 


48  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

man  which  ought  to  bo  considered  as  the  chief  source 
of  his  happiness  and  fame ;  that  is,  his  early  and 
perpetual  attachment  to  religion. 

"It  must  gratify  every  Christian  to  reflect,  that  the 
man  of  our  country  most  eminent  for  energy  of 
mind,  for  intenseness  of  application,  and  frankness 
and  intrepidity  in  asserting  what  he  believed  to  be  the 
cause  of  truth,  was  so  constantly  devoted  to  Chris- 
tianity, that  he  appears  to  have  made  the  Bible  not 
only  the  rule  of  his  conduct,  but  the  director  of  his 
genius.  His  poetry  flowed  from  the  Scripture,  as 
if  his  unparalleled  poetical  powers  had  been  ex- 
pressly given  him  by  Heaven,  for  the  purpose  of 
imparting  to  religion  such  lustre  as  the'  most  splen- 
did of  human  faculties  could  bestow." 

The  majesty  and  sublimity  of  this  great  work, 
and  its  uncommon  success,  may  be  imputed  to  the 
manner  and  perseverance  of  the  poet's  preparation. 
Deep  reflection  added  solidity  to  his  genius,  constant 
study  of  the  holy  Scriptures  elevated  and  gave  it 
sublimity,  fervent  prayer  strengthened,  purified, 
perfected  his  design.  Think  not  that  this  is 
unfounded  conjecture,  and  that  without  authority 
we  add  him  to  the  number  of  those  who  have  prac- 
tised the  duty  of  prayer  and  experienced  its  efiica- 
cy.  Read  his  own  unequivocal  testimony,  given  in 
the  "  Reason  of  Church  Government,"  published 
in  1641.  He  there  promises  with  calm  confidence  to 
undertake  something  which  may  be  of  use  and 
honor  to  his  country.  "  This,"  says  he,  "  is  not  to 
be  obtained  but  by  devout  prayer  to  that  Eternal 
Spirit,  that  can  enrich  with  all  utterance  and  know- 
ledge, and  send  out  his  seraphim  with  the  hallowed 
fire  of  his  altar,  to  touch  and  purify  the  lips  of 


JOHN    MILTON.  49 

tvhom  he  pleases.  To  this  must  be  added  industri- 
ous and  select  reading,  steady  observation,  and  in- 
sight into  all  seemly  and  generous  arts  and  affairs  ; 
till  which  in  some  measure  be  compassed,  I  refuse 
not  to  sustain  this  expectation."  Dr.  Johnson 
remarks,  that  "  from  a  promise  like  this,  at  once 
fervid,  pious  and  rational,  might  be  expected  the 
Paradise  Lost."  Thus  setting  himself  apart  by 
prayer  and  meditation,  as  for  a  holy  work,  he  ob- 
tained grace  from  on  high,  with  the  spirit  of  utter- 
ance and  wisdom,  so  that  he  might  live  after  death, 
in  the  memory  and  admiration  of  men.  In  almost 
every  part  of  this  sublime  poem,  we  trace  the  sen- 
timents and  the  fervor  of  a  Christian,  and  on  the  first 
page  he  solicits  the  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  that  aid 
which  he  had  so  often  entreated  in  the  silence  of 
the  closet,  and  the  solemnity  of  secret  devotion. 

"But  chiefly  thou,  O  Spirit,  that  dost  prefer 
Above  all  temples,  tlie  upright  heart  and  pure, 
Instruct  me. 

What  in  me  is  dark 
Illumine  :  what  is  low  raise  and  support : 
That  to  the  hei<jht  of  this  great  argument 
I  may  asseit  eternal  Providence, 
And  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  man." 

Also  in  his  third  book,  after  a  feeling  allusion  to 
his  melancholy  state  of  blindness,  he  invokes  that 
divine  Light  which  shineth  from  abovs  and  enlight- 
eneth  the  darkness  of  man's  heart. 

"But  thickened  clouds  and  ever  during  dark 
Surround  me  : — from  the  cheerful  ways  of  man 
Cutoff:  fair  Nature's  works  expunged  and  rased 
And  wisdom  at  one  entrance  quite  shut  out. 
So  much  the  rather,  thou  Celestial  Light, 
4* 


60  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

Sliine  inward  :    and  the  mind  through  all  her  powers 
Irradiate.  Tliere  plant  eyes,  nil  mist  from  thence 
Purge  and  disperse,  that  1  may  see  and  tell 
Ot"  things  invisible  to  mortal  sight." 

He  implies  that  his  prayer  had  been  successful, 
and  that  the  work  to  him  was  divested  of  labor,  for 
as  if  inspired,  the  thoughts  and  expressions  were 
poured  upon  him  in  their  full  tide  of  melody.  He 
speaks  of  the  assistance  given  him,  under  the  figure 
of  a  celestial  patroness,  who  he  says, 

"  Dictates  to  Itim  slumbering,  and  inspires 
Easy  his  luiprcmeditatcd  verse." 

"  I  sing  with  voice  unchanged, 
To  hoarse  or  mute,  though  fallen  on  evil  days. 
On  evil  days  though  iallcn,  and  evd  tongues  : 
In  darkne.-s,  and  with  dangers  eojupassed  round 
And  solitude  :  yrt  not  alone,  while  thou 
Visit'st  my  shuiihers  nightly,  or  when  morn 
Purples  (lie  cast.     Slill  govern  tlu)U  my  song. 
For  thou  art  heavenly." 

His  high  idea  of  the  efficacy  of  prayer,  may  be 
drawn  from  the  circumstance  of  his  rej)rescnling 
our  first  parents  in  deep  and  contrite  sujjplication, 
after  their  act  cf  disobedience,  and  his  supposing 
the  Saviour  to  intercede  for  them,  and  even  the  Al- 
mighty to  listen  and  to  relent. 

"  How  much  more  if  we  pray  him,  will  his  ear 
Be  open  ;  and  his  heart  to  pity  incline. 
So  spake  our  Father  penitent,  nor  Eve 
F'elt  less  remorse.     They  forthw  ith  to  the  place 
Re])airing  where  he  judged  them,  prostrate  fell 
Before  him  reverent,  and  hoth  confessed 
Huml)ly  their  faults,  and  jiardon  begged  with  tears 
Watering  the  ground,  and  with  their  sighs  the  air 
Frequenting,  sent  from  contrite  hearts  m  sign 


JOHN    MILTON.  51 

Of  sorrow  uafci|incd  and  humiliation  metk. 
Thus  they  in  lowliest  plight  repentant  stood 
Praying,  for  from  the  mercy  seat  above 
Prevenient  grace  descending  had  removed 
The  stony  (torn  their  hearts,  that  sighs  now  breathed 
Unutterable,  which  the  Spirit  of  prayer 
Inspired,  and  winged  for  heaven  with  speedier  flight 
Than  loudest  oratory ;  in  they  passed 
Dimcnsionless  through  heavenly  doors,  tlien  clad 
With  incense  where  the  golden  altar  fumed, 
By  their  great  intercessor,  came  in  sight 
Before  the  Fatiier's  throne  ;  then  the  glad  Son 
Presenting,  thus  to  intercede  began." 


SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 


Sir  Matthew  Hale,  lord  chief  justice  of  En- 
gland, was  born  in  Gloucestershire,  in  the 

1609.  year  1609;  the  son  of  a  barrister,  eminent 
for  integrity  and  piety.  Before  he  was 
six  years  old,  he  lost  both  his  parents,  but  by  the 
care  of  a  judicious  guardian,  great  attention  was 
paid  to  his  education.  At  Oxford  he  for  awhile 
distinguished  himself  by  his  proficiency,  until  some 
strolling  players  took  up  their  abode  near  the  uni- 
versity, and  his  fondness  for  theatrical  amusements 
partially  stifled  his  affection  for  study.  He  imbibed 
also  a  strong  inclination  for  a  military  life,  and  it 
was  with  difficulty  that  a  valuable  friend  persuaded 
him  to  correct  the  rashness  of  his  choice,  and  em- 
brace the  profession  of  the  law.  After  his  entrance 
at  Lincoln's  Inn,  his  former  love  of  knowledge  re- 
turned,'and  his  application  was  so  unremitting  that  he 
studied  fifteen  hours  in  a  day,  for  many  years.  In 
early  youth,  his  fondness  for  company  led  him  into 
many  levities  and  extravagances,  but  this  propensity 
was  subdued  by  a  circumstance  which  made  a  deep 
impression  on  his  mind  during  the  remainder  of  his 
life. 

Having  joined  a  party  of  young  men  of  his  ac- 
quaintance, one  of  them,  through  excess  of  wine, 


SIR  MATTHEW   HALE.  63 

fell  down,  apparently  dead  at  their  feet.  Young 
Hale  was  so  affected  on  the  occasion,  that  he  im- 
mediately retired  to  another  room,  and  shutting  the 
door,  fell  on  his  knees,  and  prayed  earnestly  to  Go<l 
that  his  friend  might  be  restored  to  life,  and  that  he 
might  be  pardoned  for  giving  countenance  to  such 
excess.  At  the  same  time  he  made  a  solemn  vow 
that  he  would  never  again  mingle  in  such  pursuits, 
or  "drink  a  health"  while  he  lived.  The  life  of 
his  friend  was  restored,  and  he  ever  after  religiously 
observed  his  vow.  There  appeared  an  entire  change 
in  his  disposition ;  he  forsook  all  dissipated  com- 
pany, and  strictly  divided  his  time  between  the 
studies  of  his  profession,  and  the  duties  of  religion. 

He  became  remarkable  for  a  grave  and  exemplary 
deportment,  great  moderation  of  temper,  and  reli- 
gious tenderness  of  sph-it,  was  frequent  in  secret 
prayer,  fasting,  and  giving  alms,  and  was  so  far  from 
being  lifted  up  by  spiritual  pride,  that  the  remem- 
brance of  his  past  infirmities  frequently  led  him  to 
express  a  fear,  "lest  he  should  be  left  to  do  some 
enormous  thing,  which  might  cast  a  reproach  upon 
his  profession,  and  give  great  advantage  to  impious 
men  to  blaspheme  the  name  of  God." 

He  was  exemplary  in  family  religion,  performed  the 
service  of  daily  worship,  and  was  so  attached  to  the 
public  ordinances  of  the  Sabbath  that  for  36  years 
he  was  never  absent  from  church.  The  following 
short  extract  from  a  diary  that  he  regularly  kept, 
shows  the  piety  of  his  mind,  and  his  solicitude  to 
make  tlie  best  use  of  his  time. 

Momino;. 
1.  "To  IHl  up  the  heart  in  thankfulness  to  God 
for  renewing  my  life. 


54  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

2.  To  renew  my  covenant  with  God  in  Christ ; 
first  by  acts  of  faith  receiving  Christ,  and  rejoicing 
in  the  height  of  that  relation  :  secondly  by  resolving 
to  be  one  of  his  people,  and  to  do  him  allegiance. 

3.  Adoration  and  Prayer. 

Day  Employment. 

1.  In  our  ordinary  calling  to  serve  God.  It  is  a 
service  to  Christ,  though  ever  so  mean.  Here  ob- 
serve faithfulness,  diligence,  cheerfulness.  Be  care- 
ful not  to  overcharge  myself  with  more  business 
than  I  can  bear. 

2.  Spiritual  employment.  Mingle  somewhat  of 
God's  immediate  service  with  the  business  of  the 
day. 

If  alone. 

1.  Beware  of  wandering,  vain,  sensual  thoughts  : 
fly  from  thyself  rather  than  entertain  them. 

Let  thy  solitary  thoughts  be  profitable.  View 
the  evidences  of  thy  salvation,  the  state  of  thy  soul, 
the  coming  of  Christ,  and  thine  own  mortality  ;  this 
will  make  thee  humble  and  watchful. 

Company. 

Do  good  to  them.  Use  God's  name  reverently. 
Beware  of  leaving  an  ill  impression  or  ill  example. 

Receive  good  from  them  if  they  are  more  know- 
ing. 

Evenino;. 
Cast  up  the  accoimts  of  the  day.     [f  there  was 
aught  amiss,  beg  pardon  :  resolve  to  be  more  vigi- 
lant.    If  tho\i  hast  (lone  well,  bless  iho  mercy  and 


SIR   MATTHEW    HALE.  56 

grace  of  God  which  have  suppUed  thee." — Thus 
did  this  excellent  niaii  watch  his  spiritual  concerns, 
at  the  same  time  that  he  was  making  progress  m  the 
sciences,  and  becoming  a  greater  proficient  in  the 
law  than  any  of  his  cotemporaries.  In  his  office  of 
judge  he  conducted  himself  with  the  strictest  integ- 
rity, and  the  motives  that  influenced  him  were  foun- 
ded on  the  oidy  firm  basis — that  of  piety.  The 
excellence  of  his  resolution  may  be  seen  by  a  short 
extract  from  one  of  his  papers,  entitled  "  Things  to 
be  had  in  continual  remembrance. — That  iji  the 
administration  of  justice  I  am  entrusted  for  God,  the 
king  and  the  country  ;  and  therefore  that  it  be  done 
uprightly,  dehberately,  resolutely.  That  I  rest  not 
upon  my  own  direction  and  strength ;  but  implore 
and  rest  upon  the  direction  and  strength  of  God. 
That  in  the  execution  of  justice,  I  carefully  lay  aside 
my  own  passions,  and  give  no  countenance  to  them, 
however  provoked.  That  I  be  not  biassed  by  com- 
passion to  the  poor,  or  favor  to  the  rich,  in  point  of 
justice.  That  popular  applause,  or  court  dishke, 
have  no  influence  in  any  thing  I  do  in  the  distribution 
of  justice.  That  I  be  not  solicitous  about  what  men 
thuik  or  say,  so  long  as  I  keep  myself  exactly  accor- 
dant to  the  rules  of  justice." 

He  raised  the  reputation  of  the  court  by  his  im- 
partial administration,  diligence  fmd  exactness,  while 
ho  supported  the  character  of  a  true  Christian,  by 
temperance,  charity  and  hiunility.  He  reserved  a 
tenth  part  of  all  he  obtained  for  works  of  benevolence, 
and  in  an  age  when  the  most  profuse  entertainments 
were  fashionable,  never  attended  any,  or  gave  any 
except  to  the  poor  ;  literally  fulfilling  that  command 
of  our  Saviour,  "When  thou  makest  a  feast,  call  the 
poor,  and  the  lame,  the  halt,  and  the  blind."     Ho 


56  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

would  never  receive  the  smallest  present  from  those 
whose  causes  were  before  him,  or  listen  to  private 
addresses  from  the  greatest  personages  in  any  matter 
where  justice  was  concerned.  One  of  the  highest 
peers  of  England,  once  went  to  his  chamber,  and 
informed  him,  "  that  having  a  suit  in  law  to  be  tried 
before  him,  he  came  to  acquaint  him  with  its  circum- 
stances, that  he  might  the  better  understand  it,  when 
it  should  be  heard  in  court ;"  but  he  interrupted  him 
with  the  declaration,  "that  he  never  received  any 
information  of  causes  but  in  open  court,  where  both 
parties  might  be  heard  alike."  The  duke  departed, 
greatly  displeased,  and  complained  to  Charles  Se- 
cond :  but  his  majesty  commanded  him  "to  be  con- 
tent, for  he  himself  should  not  have  been  treated 
better,  if  he  had  gone  thus  to  solicit  him  in  any  of 
his  own  causes." 

Among  the  particular  friends  of  Sir  Matthew 
Hale,  was  the  celebrated  Selden,  who  induced  him 
to  engage  in  the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences,  for  his 
apprehension  was  quick,  his  memory  tenacious,  and 
his  application  indefatigable.  To  his  professional 
knowledge  he  united  an  acquaintance  with  mathe- 
matics, anatomy,  surgery,  physic,  experimental 
philosophy,  history,  chronology,  and  divinity.  It 
would  seem  incredible  that  amidst  all  these  studies, 
he  should  find  time  for  composition,  yet  he  com- 
pleted fourteen  different  works,  many  of  them  of  con- 
siderable length,  and  all  bearing  the  stamp  of  unaf- 
fected piety. 

His  "Contemplations,  moral  and  divine,"  are 
deservedly  admired  by  every  friend  of  experimental 
Christianity.  "True  religion,"  he  says  there, 
"teaches  the  soul  an  high  veneration  for  Almighty 
God;  asiaccrc  and  upright  walking  as  iallic  presence 


SIR   MATTHEW    HALE.  67 

of  the  invisible,  all-seeing  One.  It  ninkcs  a  man 
truly  love,  honor,  obey  him,  and  be  careful  to  know 
what  his  will  is.  It  renders  the  heart  thankful  to 
him,  as  Creator,  Redeemer,  Benefactor.  It  makes 
a  man  entirely  depend  on  him,  seek  for  guidance, 
protection,  direction,  and  submit  to  his  will  with 
patience  and  resignation  of  soul.  It  gives  the  law 
not  only  to  his  words  and  actions,  but  to  his  very 
thoughts  and  purposes ;  so  that  he  dare  not  entertain 
any,  which  are  unbecoming  the  presence  of  that  God 
to  whom  all  thoughts  are  legible.  It  crushes  all 
pride  and  haughtihess,  both  in  the  heart  and  carriage, 
and  gives  an  humble  state  of  mind  belbre  God  and 
man.  It  regulates  the  passions,  and  brings  them 
into  due  moderation.  It  gives  a  man  a  right  esti- 
mate of  this  present  world,  and  sets  his  heart  and 
hopes  above  it,  so  that  he  neveV  loves  it  more  than  it 
deserves.  It  makes  the  wealth  and  glory  of  this 
world,  high  places  and  great  preferments,  but  of  little 
consequence  to  him ;  so  that  he  is  neither  covetous, 
nor  ambitious,  nor  over-solicitous  concerning  their 
advantages.  It  makes  him  value  the  love  of  God 
and  the  peace  of  his  own  conscience,  above  all  the 
wealth  and  honor  in  the  world,  and  to  be  very  diligent 
in  preserving  them.  He  performs  all  his  duties  to 
God  with  sincerity  and  humility ;  and  while  he  lives 
on  earth,  his  conversation,  liis  hope,  his  treasures 
are  in  heaven  ;  and  he  endeavors  to  walk  suitably 
to  such  an  hope." 

Speaking  of  the  divine  and  invisible  guidance 
which  is  often  granted  to  the  prayers  of  men,  he 
remarks,  "Though  this  secret  direction  of  Alniiglily 
God  is  principally  seen  in  matters  relating  to  the 
good  of  the  soul,  yet  in  the  concerns  of  tliis  life,  a 
good  man,  fearing  God  and  begging  his  direction, 
5 


5S  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOLS    PERSONS. 

will  very  often,  if  not  at  all  times,  find  it  I  can  cull 
my  own  experience  to  witness,  that  even  in  the  tem- 
poral affairs  of  my  whole  life,  I  have  never  been 
disappointed  of  the  best  direction,  when  I  have  in 
humility  and  sincerity  implored  it." 

This  eminently  virtuous  man  enjoyed  almost 
uninterrupted  health,  till  the  66th  year  of  his  age, 
when  he  was  affected  with  an  indisposition  which 
impaired  his  strength  and  forced  him  to  retire  from 
the  cares  of  his  office.  During  a  painful  sickness 
he  exhibited  the  most  exemplary  patience,  and  per- 
fect resignation,  and  enjoyed  the  free  use  of  his  rea- 
son and  understanding  till  the  last  moment ;  a  favor 
for  which  he  had  often  and  earnestly  prayed.  He 
continued  to  retire  daily  for  his  studies  and  devotions, 
and  when  he  was  unable  to  move,  would  .have  his 
servants  carry  him  to  the  place  where  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  address  God  in  secret.  As  the  win- 
ter came  on,  he  saw  with  great  joy  his  time  of  deliver- 
ance approaching,  and  his  earnest  desire  after  a 
more  glorious  state  was  tempered  witli  the  meekest 
submission  to  the  will  of  God.  He  had  lived  a  life 
of  prayer,  and,  if  it  may  be  so  expressed,  he  died  a 
death  of  prayer  ;  for  when  his  voice  was  so  sunk 
that  it  could  not  be  heard,  his  friends  perceived  by 
the  constant  lifling  up  of  his  eyes  and  hands,  what 
was  the  employment  of  his  departing  soul.  He 
struggled  not,  and  seemed  to  have  no  pang  in  his 
last  moments,  but  breathed  out  his  pious  spirit  in 
peace,on  the  25th of  December,  1676,  aged  67  years. 

"Siicli  was  thy  lif(3,  and  sucli  thy  death, — in  whom 
Our  British  theme  has  gloried  with  just  cause — 
Iniaiortal  liale  !  for  deep  diseerrimeut  prais'd, 
And  sound  integrity; — not  more  liian  faui'd 
For  sanctity  olmannera  undttil'd." — Cowi'tR's  Task. 


REV.  ROWLAND  NEVIT. 


Rowland  Nevit  was  bom  in  the  year  1609,  at 

an  obscure  parish  in  England,  educated  at  the  school 

of  Shrewsbury,  and  while  a  youth  admit- 

1609.  ted  Fellow  of  the  University  of  Oxford. 
His  proficiency  in  study  well  merited  the 
honors  which  were  there  conferred  upon  him,  and 
his  pious  inclinations  led  him  to  the  clerical  profes- 
sion, to  which  he  was  ordained,  in  his  26th  year.  He 
was  first  presented  to  the  vicarage  of  Staunton,  and 
afterwards  to  that  of  Oswestry,  where  he  labored  as 
a  faithful  and  zealous  minister,  and  strove  by  his 
discourses,  conversation  and  prayers,  to  impress 
the  minds,  and  benefit  the  souls  of  his  flock. 

When  the  people  of  his  charge  were  visited  by 
the  plague,  and  almost  all  who  were  able  to  remove 
might  be  seen  flying  in  every  direction,  he  continu- 
ed with  the  sick  and  dying  remnant,  comforted,  in- 
structed, prayed  for  them,  and  Heaven  not  only  pre- 
served his  life,  but  added  an  apparent  blessing  to 
his  exertions. 

With  many  other  faithful  ministers  he  was  silen- 
ced by  the  act  of  Nonconformity,  but  continued 
with  his  people  until  his  death,  rendering  them  eve- 
ry service  in  his  power.  He  was  peculiarly  atten- 
tive to  the  several  duties  of  family  religion,  and  to 


60  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

the  pious  education  of  his  children,  and  continued 
an  example  to  the  believers,  in  "  life,  in  conversa- 
tion, in  doctrine,  in  spirit,  in  faith,  in  purity."  He 
deeply  lamented  the  divisions  of  the  church,  and 
the  intemperate  controversies  of  many  sects,  and 
though  his  conscience  would  not  suffer  him  to  read 
forms  of  prayer  to  his  congregation,  his  love  of 
peace  prompted  him  often  to  join  with  those  who  did. 

In  his  conduct  to  his  friends,  he  was  unusually 
tender  and  affectionate,  and  it  was  observed  by 
them,  that  he  was  frequently  in  ejaculatory  prayer, 
in  the  midst  of  the  common  scenes  and  employ- 
ments of  life.  The  service  of  the  ministry  was 
his  delight,  and  though  his  strength  was  easily  ex- 
hausted, he  would  solemnly  appeal  to  his  Maker, 
that  "  if  he  was  wearied  in  his  service,  he  could  ne- 
ver be  weary  of  it."  Though  subject  to  the  fre- 
quent infirmities  of  a  delicate  constitution,  he  used 
to  assert  "  that  he  was  never  better  than  in  the  pul- 
pit, and  there  he  could  wish  to  die." 

When  he  began  to  feel  the  agonies  of  dissolving 
nature,  a  friend  reminded  him  that  he  would  soon  re- 
ceive his  reward,  but  he  rephed  humbly, — "  it  is  all 
free  grace."  To  his  children  who  surrounded  him, 
he  gave  the  advice  and  admonition  of  a  dying  father, 
praying  solemnly  for  each,  that  "  the  Mediator's 
blessing  might  rest  upon  them,"  and  adding  this 
weighty  command,  "  I  charge  you  all,  that  you  meet 
me  at  the  right  hand  of  Christ,  at  the  great  day." — 
Just  before  he  departed,  he  said,  "  Go  forth,  my 
soul, — go  forth  to  meet  thy  God ; — it  is  now  done, 
— Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly,"  and  thus  expired  at 
his  own  house  in  Oswestry,  in  his  66th  year,  on  the 
8th  day  of  December,  1676. 


REV.  FRANCIS  TALLENTS. 


Francis  Tallents  was  a  native  of  a  small  town 

in  Derbyshire,  (Eng.)     His  family  was  originally 

of  French  extraction,  and  his  parents,  who 

1609.  were  strirtly  rehgious,  both  died  when 
their  children  were  very  young.  Six  or- 
phans stood  around  the  bier  on  which  the  guides  of 
their  infancy  were  laid,  and  the  promise  was  fulfilled 
t)  them,  which  they  were  then  too  young  to  realize^ 
"  when  my  father  and  my  mother  forsake  me,  then 
the  Lord  will  take  me  up."  They  had  an  uncle,  a 
respectable  clergyman,  who  adopted  the  orphans  as 
his  own,  and  faithfully  executed  the  part  of  a  tender 
and  provident  father.  Two  of  the  sons  he  educa- 
ted liberally,  and  the  eldest,  who  is  the  subject  of 
these  memoirs,  so  distinguished  himself  at  the  pre- 
paratory schools,  that  one  of  his  instrnctoi^  wrote 
to  his  uncle,  that  "  he  was  indeed  a  golden  talenU* 

At  16  years  of  age,  he  was  sent  to  the  Cambridge 
University,  and  from  thence  removed  to  Magdalen 
College,  to  be  tutor  of  the  sons  of  the  Earl  of  Suf- 
folk. Soon  after  his  entrance  here  he  became  seri- 
ously impressed,  and  thoroughly  reconciled  to  the 
way  of  life  recommended  in  the  Scriptures,  and 
though  he  had  strong  temptations  to  infidelity,  was 
enabled  to  be  victorious,  and  to  maintain  the  true 


62  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

faith.  In  his  23d  year  he  began  his  travels  into 
foreign  parts,  having  nnder  his  care,  the  sons  of  the 
Earl  of  Suffolk,  and  while  he  improved  his  mind  by 
the  observation  of  the  varying  customs  of  men,  he 
was  so  far  from  being  corrupted  by  their  wickedness 
or  infidelity,  that  he  declared  on  his  return,  that 
"  what  he  had  heard  and  seen  abroad  had  served  to 
confirm  him  in  the  Protestant  religion." 

At  his  return  from  his  tour  of  two  years,  he  be- 
came an  approved  teacher  in  Magdalen  College, 
and  had  the  honor  of  assisting  to  fonn  the  minds  of 
many  who  were  afterwards  distinguished  as  eminent 
scholars.  He  occasionally  preached  during  his 
residence  at  the  University,  and  continued  at  that 
seat  of  literature,  receiving  and  imparting  know- 
ledge, until  he  reached  his  33d  year,  when  he  quit- 
ted his  tutorship,  to  be  ordained  Pastor  of  St. 
Mary's  Church  in  Shrewsbury.  He  was  observed 
to  lay  aside  the  technical  terms,  and  lofty  style  of  a 
student,  and  though  he  had  been  20  years  an  acade- 
mician, and  conversant  equally  with  the  abstnase  and 
refined  parts  of  science,  he  studied  to  accommodate 
himself  to  the  meanest  capacity,  and  to  preach 
plainly  of  him  who  was  crucified. 

Mr.  ^axter  in  his  memoirs  says  of  him,  "  he  was 
a  good  scholar,  and  a  blameless  divine,  most  emi- 
nent for  extraordinary  prudence,  moderation,  and 
peaceable  deportment  towards  all."  Soon  after  his 
settlement  at  Shrewsbury  he  married,  but  his  belov- 
ed partner  survived  only  a  short  time,  and  his  only 
child  whom  he  educated  at  Cambridge,  caused  him 
great  imeasiness  by  his  unprincipled  excesses,  and 
died  in  early  life. 

To  these  deep  afihctions  was  added  his  eject- 


REV.    FRANCIS    TALLENTS.  63 

mcnt  from  the  ministry,  by  the  act  of  Uniformity  to 
which  his  conscience  would  not  suffer  him  to  ac- 
cede, but  prompted  him  rather  to  resign  an  employ- 
ment which  he  loved,  and  which  was  his  only  de- 
pendance  for  earthly  subsistence.  Yet  was  there 
nothing  bigoted  or  morose  in  his  non-conformity, 
for  he  attended  the  ministry  of  those  who  did  con- 
form, and  used  no  irritable  or  improper  compari- 
sons. He  kept  the  anniversary  of  the  day  in  which 
he  was  silenced,  by  secret  prayer  and  fasting,  and 
styled  it  "  a  day  to  bring  to  remembrance." 

Finding  himself  divested  of  employment,  he  was 
prevailed  upon  to  make  a  second  time  the  tour  of 
France  as  tutor  to  two  young  gentlemen — Bosca- 
wen  and  Hampden.  \N  hile  at  Paris  he  published 
n  large  treatise  entitled  "  a  description  of  the  Ro- 
man Catholic  religion."  During  his  absence  he 
carefully  recorded  in  his  journal  all  that  was  worthy 
of  notice,  customs — curiosities — conversation  and 
character  of  learned  men  ;  yet  though  this  trans- 
cript was  both  interesting  and  instructive,  he  never 
could  be  persuaded  to  give  it  to  the  world.  Soon 
after  his  return  he  published  his  "  View  of  Univer- 
sal history,"  which  was  first  commenced  for  the  use 
of  his  collegiate  students.  About  this  time  he  suf^ 
fered  from  the  unwarrantable  oppression  of  the 
"  Five  Mile  Act,"  which  forbade  all  non-conformist 
ministers  to  approach  within  five  miles  of  any 
church  in  which  they  had  formerly  officiated.  He 
had  consequently  removed  into  an  obscure  part  of 
the  country,  but  his  wife  going  to  Shrewsbury  upon 
business,  was  suddenly  taken  ill  and  died  there. 

Moved  by  the  strong  impulse  of  mourning  affec- 
tion, to  go  and  pay  the  last  sad  duties  to  her  re- 


64  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

mains,  he  was  brutally  apprehended  and  sent  prison- 
er to  Chester  Castle.  After  his  release  he  found 
it  necessary  to  live  in  privacy  and  retirement,  and 
to  suffer  in  silence.  When  a  degree  of  liberty  was 
granted  to  the  dissenters,  he  accepted  it  joyfully, 
and  returned  to  his  people,  who  received  him  ten- 
derly. 

During  the  exercise  of  his  professional  duties, 
he  found  time  to  compose  and  publish  several 
works,  and  his  last  was  "The  history  of  Schism, 
for  the  promotion  of  Christian  moderation,  and  the 
Communion  of  Saints."  This  book,  though  writ- 
ten at  the  advanced  age  of  85,  shows  no  traces  of 
decayed  intellect,  but  is  the  result  of  much  learning,, 
aided  by  the  reflections  of  a  mind  deeply  tinctured 
with  piety  and  charity. 

Notwithstanding  his  great  age,  he  experienced 
no  sickness,  except  the  gradual  loss  of  strength,  un- 
til three  weeks  before  his  death,  when  the  decay  of 
nature  became  more  apparent.  He  then  charged 
his  friends  not  to  pray  for  his  life,  but  that  he  might 
be  enabled  patiently  to  wait  for  his  change.  When 
the  exertions  of  his  friends  once  restored  him  from 
a  severe  attack  of  faintness  which  he  had  hoped 
would  have  been  his  last,  he  said,  "Why  did  you  not 
let  a  poor  old  man  go  away  quietly  ?  Here  I  lie, 
waiting — waiting.  Yet  I  bless  God  that  I  am  more 
full  of  comfort  and  joy  than  1  am  able  to  express." 
He  was  almost  constantly  in  prayer,  and  on  the  day 
of  his  death  seemed  to  be  reviving,  but  at  9  o'clock 
ill  the  evening,  sweetly  sunk  into  his  last  sleep  at 
the  age  of  89. 


REV.  SAMUEL  STONE. 


1610. 
Among  those  religious  persons  who  were  moved 
to  emigrate  from  Europe,  and  cast  into  the  mass  of 
this  New  World's  population,  the  leaven  of  sancti- 
fied talents,  and  confirmed  virtue,  wsis  the  Rev. 
Samuel  Stone.  He  was  a  native  of  Hartford,  in 
England,  educated  at  Emmanuel  College,  in  the 
University  of  Cambridge,  and  became  the  first 
minister  of  Hartford,  in  Connecticut.  He  was 
originally  settled  there,  as  colleague  with  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Hooker,  in  company  with  whom,  he  led  a  party 
of  emigrants  from  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  in 
June,  1636,  hoping  to  join  a  colony  which  had  been 
commenced  on  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut  river, 
in  the  autumn  of  the  preceding  year. 

They  travelled  more  than  one  hundred  miles 
through  a  trackless  wilderness,  over  mountains, 
morasses  and  streams,  with  no  other  guide  than  the 
compass,  and  no  covering  from  night  or  tempest, 
but  the  heavens.  About  one  hundred  individuals 
attempted  this  pilgrimage.  The  more  hardy  of  the 
men  carried  in  packs  upon  their  shoulders,  the  prin- 
cipal part  of  their  property ;  the  remainder  drove 
before  them  the  cattle  on  which  they  depended  for 
subsistence. 

More  than  a  fortnight  elapsed  ere  this  perilous 


66  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

journey  was  completed,  for  among  the  colonists 
were  many  who  in  their  native  clime  were  accustom- 
ed to  ease  and  affluence,  women  in  delicate  health, 
and  tender  babes  who  required  shelter  and  care. 
The  wife  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hooker  was  at  that 
time  so  much  indisposed,  as  to  be  borne  in  a  rude 
litter,  upon  the  shoulders  of  firmer  travellers. 

The  efforts  of  the  holy  men  who  led  this  suffer- 
ing band,  were  well  employed  in  strengthening  their 
faith,  and  encouraging  them  to  mingle  with  the 
spirit  of  endurance,  cheerful  praise  to  their  preser- 
ver. The  thickets  which  had  heard  only  the  howl 
of  the  savage  beasts,  became  familiar  with  other 
sounds,  as  the   Christians  proceeded,  for 

"  They  shook  the  depths  of  the  desert's  gloom 
With  their  hymns  of  lofty  cheer." 

New  trials  awaited  them  after  their  arrival  at  the 
place  of  their  destination.  The  process  of  clear- 
ing and  rendering  an  uncultivated  country  habita- 
ble, is  always  laborious  and  subject  to  many  obstruc- 
tions. Their  sufferings  diu"ing  the  first  winter  were 
so  extreme,  from  want  of  food,  and  exposure  to  cold, 
from  which  their  frail  dwellings  were  insufficient  to 
protect  them,  that  numbers  attempted  to  regain  the 
settlements  which  they  had  left  in  Massachusetts, — 
and  some  of  these  left  their  emaciated  and  frozen 
carcasses  in  the  intervening  wilderness. — But  the 
majority  remained  patient  and  faithful  during  their 
time  of  trial.  Returning  Spring  enabled  them  to 
commit  such  seeds  as  they  could  procure,  to  the  lit- 
tle spots  of  earth,  from  whence  they  had  painfully 
exterminated  the  lofty  trees,  and  clinging  brambles. 

Almost  the  only  giain  which  was  at  fust  cultivat- 


REV.    SAMUEL    STONE.  67 

ed  was  Indian  Com,  and  as  no  mills  could  be  ob- 
tained it  was  pounded  in  mortars,  to  produce  a 
coarse  kind  of  bread, — which  to  those  accustomed 
to  the  wheat  of  Europe,  was  neither  palatable  nor 
salutarj^ ;  so  that  if  disease  did  not  spring  from  ab- 
solute famine,  it  was  often  nourished  in  delicate 
83'stems,  by  an  uncongenial  diet.  In  addition  to 
these  calamities,  the  Indians  who  bordered  closely 
upon  tliem,  became  infected  with  dislike  and  jeal- 
ousy, and  the  Httle  colony,  which  was  already  di- 
minishing, by  the  effects  of  a  severe  climate,  and 
the  pressure  of  want,  was  threatened  with  all  the 
horrors  of  savage  warfare.  But  a  resolution  equal 
to  every  exigence  sprang  up  among  them,  whose 
foundation  was  a  steadfast  piety. 

It  becomes  us  now  to  see  what  part  was  borne  by 
Mr.  Stone,  during  the  darkness  which  rested  upon 
his  people.  Naturally  possessed  of  great  firmness 
and  cheerfulness,  he  endeavored  to  breathe  his  own 
spirit  into  the  desponding,  and  to  establish  their  foot- 
steps upon  the  rock  of  Zion.  in  preaching,  instruc- 
tion from  house  to  house,  and  visits  to  the  afilicted, 
he  was  unwearied.  His  very  countenance  and 
manner  had  a  consoling  influence  upon  the  sorrow- 
ful, for  he  had  adopted  it  as  a  maxim,  that  many 
who  know  not  religion,  might  be  led  to  love  it,  if 
they  saw  that  it  was  consistent  with  cheerfulness. 
The  benevolence  which  he  exercised  towards  all, 
was  guarded  by  the  strictest  observance  of  personal 
duties. 

In  prayer  he  was  frequent  and  fervent,  and  kept 
many  days  of  Ikstitig;  by  which  he  thought  his 
humility  was  increased,  and  the  power  of  the  world 
broken.     In  the  observance  of  the  Sabbath  he  was 


68  BIOGRAPHY   OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

truly  exemplary,  and  seemed  to  carry  from  it  through- 
out the  week,  an  elevation  of  soul,  arising  from 
communion  with  God.  He  commenced  his  prepara- 
tion for  this  holy  season,  early  on  the  preceding 
evening,  and  after  contemplation  and  prayer,  was 
accustomed  to  call  his  family  together,  and  repeat  to 
them  the  sermon  which  he  had  prepared  for  the 
ensuing  day.  This  furnished  him  with  an  opportu- 
nity of  adapting  subsequent  conversation  to  their 
instruction  on  those  passages  which  seemed  most  to 
interest  or  affect  them,  while  by  giving  him  a  more 
thorough  knowledge  of  his  discourse,  it  enabled  him 
by  alteration  and  addition,  to  render  it  more  lucid, 
pungent,  or  practical. 

He  was  considered  uncommonly  able  and  acute  in 
argument,  and  as  the  colony  rose  from  the  weakness 
of  infancy,  to  the  accession  of  strength  and  wealth, 
his  society  was  courted  by  men  of  learning  and 
taste.  Yet  he  knew  well  how  to  simphfy  his  style 
to  the  humblest  capacity,  when  circumstances  re- 
quired, and  sometimes  the  untutored  Indian  wept 
and  trembled,  at  hearing  from  his  Ups  the  first  sounds 
of  salvation.  Thus  he  continued  abundant  in  labor, 
and  faithful  in  doctrine,  fourteen  years,  as  colleague 
with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hooker,  and  sixteen  after  his 
death. 

The  approach  of  the  destroyer  of  his  earthly  ta- 
bernacle occasioned  no  dismay.  "  Heaven,"  he  said, 
"  is  the  more  desirable,  since  such  men  as  Hooker 
and  Shepherd  have  taken  up  their  abode  there." 
On  the  20th  of  July,  1663,  he  quietly  fell  asleep, 
lamented  and  beloved. 

He  wrote  much,  but  published  few  of  his  composi- 
tions.    Mention  is  made  by  the  ecclesiastical  histo- 


REV.    SAMUEL   STONE.  69 

rians  of  that  day,  of  an  elaborate  body  of  divinity 
written  by  him,  parts  of  which  were  sometimes 
transcribed  by  candidates  for  the  ministry,  anxious 
to  enrich  themselves  from  his  treasures  of  theology. 
Other  works  of  his  are  alluded  to,  by  cotemporary 
divines. 

A  plain  monument  erected  to  his  memory  in  the 
burial  place  adjoining  the  Central  Congregational 
Church  in  Hartford,  (Connecticut,)  is  still  in  a  good 
state  of  preservation,  though  the  tempests  of  more 
than  160  years  have  beaten  against  it ;  and  its  epitaph 
characterizes  him  in  the  quaint  dialect  of  the  age,  as 

"New  England's  glory  and  her  radiant  crown." 


BLAISE  PASCAL 


Pascal,  one  of  the  greatest  geniuses  and  finest 
writers  that  France  ever  produce(],  was 

1623.  born  at  Clermont,  in  Auvergne,  1623. 
His  father  quitted  a  hicrative  and  honora- 
ble public  ofRce,  that  he  might  devote  himself  wholly 
to  the  education  of  his  son,  who  never  had  any 
other  instructor.  Almost  in  infancy  he  gave  proofs 
of  a  very  uncommon  capacity,  for  he  desired  to 
know  the  reason  of  everytliing,  and  if  sufficient  rea- 
sons were  not  adduced  would  seek  for  better  ;  re- 
fusing to  yield  his  assent  but  to  such  as  appeared 
well  grounded.  His  father,  who  mingled  religious 
instructions  with  his  studies,  feared  that  his  peculiar 
turn  of  mind  would  lead  to  scepticism,  but  he 
evinced  a  deep  reverence  for  the  truths  of  Christi- 
anity, and  seemed  to  distinguish  between  those 
things  which  were  objects  of  faith,  and  those  which 
were  subject  to  the  reasoning  powers.  "  Our  free- 
thinkers," said  he,  "  are  a  sort  of  people  who  know 
not  the  nature  of  faith,  but  are  possessed  with  this 
false  principle,  that  human  reason  is  above  all 
things." 

He  displayed  in  childhood  such  a  strong  predi- 
lection for  mathematics,  that  his  father  feared  it 
might  retard  his  progress  in  the  languages,  and 


BLAISE    PASCAL.  Tt 

locked  up  all  his  books  in  that  science.  But  he 
would  still  rnuso  upon  geometrical  proportions,  and 
was  one  day  surprised  at  work,  with  charcoal  upon 
his  chamber  floor,  and  in  the  midst  of  figures, 
"  What  are  you  doing?"  inquired  his  father.  "  I  am 
searching,"  said  the  boy,  "  for  a  demonstration  ;" — 
which  was  found  to  be  the  32d  proposition  of  the 
first  book  of  Euclid.  His  father  afterwards  in- 
dulged him  in  his  mathematical  pursuits,^  convinced 
that  it  was  impossible  to  divert  his  self-taught  genius 
from  its  favorite  channel. 

At  16,  he  wrote  a  treatise  on  conic  sections, 
.which  was  considered  by  the  learned,  as  a  mighty 
effort  of  the  human  mind ;  and  at  19,  invented  a 
highly  celebrated  arithmetical  machine,  and  tried 
many  novel  philosophical  experiments  on  the  Ter- 
niceilian  tube.  With  his  profound  knowledge  he 
mingled  an  easy  and  agreeable  address,  great  mod- 
esty, and  a  native  eloquence  which  was  almost  irre- 
sistible. 

When  he  reached  his  24th  year,  he  laid  aside  the 
mathematical  and  philosophical  studies  in  which  he 
had  so  eminendy  distinguished  himself,  and  resolv- 
ed to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  time  in  retirement, 
and  to  devote  his  talents  to  the  cause  of  piety  and 
virtue.  He  employed  himself  much  in  prayer,  and  in 
reading  the  holy  Scriptures,  and  in  those  exercises 
found  the  greatest  comfort  and  delight.  He  used  ta 
say,  "  that  the  sacred  Scriptures  were  not  so  much 
adapted  to  the  head  as  to  the  heart  of  man  ;  that 
they  were  intelligible  only  to  those  who  possessed 
rectitude  of  heart,  and  to  all  others  were  obscure 
and  uninteresting."  ' 

His  cliarity  to  tlie  poor  was  remarkably  exten- 


72  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

sive ;  he  gave  alms  even  out  of  his  own  neces- 
sary subsistence.  Persons  of  distinction  frequent- 
ly visited  him  in  his  retirement,  to  consult  him  on 
religious  subjects,  and  while  they  revered  his  piety 
and  wisdom,  they  admired  his  humility  and  simplici- 
ty. A  striking  picture  of  the  mind  of  this  good 
man  is  contained  in  a  few  sentences  which  were 
found  among  his  papers  after  his  decease.  "  I  re- 
spect poverty,  because  Jesus  Christ  respected  it ; 
I  respect  riches  because  they  furnish  the  mean^  of 
relieving  the  distressed.  I  do  not  return  evil  to 
those  who  have  done  me  an  injury.  I  endeavor  to 
be  sincere  and  faithful  to  all  men,  but  1  have  a  pe- 
culiar tenderness  towards  those  with  whom  God  has 
caused  me  to  be  intimately  cormected.  Whether  I 
am  alone  or  in  company,  I  consider  myself  as  in 
the  sight  of  God,  who  will  judge  my  actions,  and 
to  whom  I  consecrate  them  all.  These  are  my 
sentiments ; — and  I  daily  bless  my  Redeemer  who 
has  impressed  them  on  me ;  and  who  by  the  opera- 
tion of  his  grace  has  taken  away  the  concupiscence, 
pride,  ambition,  and  misery,  to  which  I  was  natu- 
rally subject.  I  owe  my  deliverance  to  his  power 
and  goodness,  having  nothing  of  myself  but  imbe- 
cility and  corruption." 

Among  his  various  literary  work^  he  had  project- 
ed one  against  atheists  and  infidels,  but  before  he 
could  digest  the  materials  he  had  collected,  he  was 
attacked  by  a  lingering  distemper,  which  eventually 
terminated  his  life.  From  his  youth  he  had  been 
much  afflicted  with  sickness,  and  from  the  19th  year 
of  his  age  had  never  passed  a  day  without  pain. 
But  he'  bore' all  without  a  murmur,  and  even  with 
cheerfulness,  and  during  his  last  illness  his  deport- 


BLAISE    PASCAL.  7$ 

ment  was  at  once  astonishing,  edifying,  and  con- 
solatory to  his  friends.  "  I  know,"  said  he,  "  the  dan- 
gers of  health,  and  the  advantages  of  sickness. 
When  we  are  ill,  we  are  exempt  from  many  of  the 
passions  which  disturb  our  health  ;  we  are  without 
ambition,  without  avarice,  and  in  continual  expecta- 
tion of  death.  We  have  nothing  to  do  bnt  to  sub- 
mit, humbly,  and  peacefully.  For  this  reason,  all  I 
ask  of  God  is  to  beseech  him  to  grant  me  this  fa- 
vor." 

He  died  in  1662,  aged  39.  His  last  words  were 
— "  May  God  never  forsake  me,"  and  he  departed 
full  of  peace  and  hope.  In  a  prayer,  composed 
near  the  close  of  his  life,  he  says,  "  I  pray  not  that 
thou  wouldst  give  me  either  health  or  sickness,  life- 
or  death,  but  that  thou  wouldst  dispose  of  my  health, 
my  sickness,  my  Ufe  and  my  death  for  thy  glory, 
and  for  my  own  eternal  welfare.  Thou  alone 
knowest  what  is  expedient  for  me,  thou  art  my  sove- 
reign Master  and  Lord :  guide  and  govern  me  at 
thy  pleasure." 

The  celebrated  Bayle,  speaking  of  this  distin-- 
guished  person,  says,  "  A  hundred  volumes  of  reli- 
gious discourses  are  not  of  so  much  avail  to  con- 
found the  impious,  as  a  simple  account  of  the  life 
of  Pascal.  His  humility  and  devotion  mortify  the 
libertine  more  than  if  they  were  attacked  by  a  doz- 
en Missionaries : — for  they  can  no  longer  assert 
that  piety  is  confined  to  men  of  little  minds,  when 
they  behold  the  highest  degree  of  it  in  a  geometri- 
cian of  the  first  rank,  a  most  acute  metaphysician, 
and  one  of  the  most  penetrating  minds  that  ever 
<^xi8ted." 

6*  ' 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  SUFFOLK* 


She  was  the  second  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Hol- 
land, born  in  the  year  1627,  and  married  very 
young,  to  Theophilus,   Earl  of  Suffolk. 

1627.  Her  powers  of  imagination,  judgment 
and  memory,  were  extraordinary  :  in  the 
latter  particular  she  was  so  happy,  that  she  frequent- 
ly committed  to  writing  on  Monday,  the  sentnon 
she  heard  the  preceding  Lord's  day,  and  nearly  in 
the  very  words  of  the  preacher.  She  had  a  remark- 
able government  of  her  passions,  and  it  was  ob- 
served that  she  was  unskilful  in  manifesting  displeas- 
ure, if  the  subject  that  excited  it  was  of  a  temporal 
nature  ;  but  a  profane  or  indecent  expression  would 
lead  her  to  reprove  the  offenders,  if  acquainted  with 
them  ;  if  strangers,  she  would  often  show  her  dis- 
gust by  retiring. 

She  was  frank  and  confiding  in  friendship,  gentle 
to  her  inferiors,  and  affable  to  all.  She  was  willing 
to  make  any  sacrifice  for  those  she  esteemed,  and 
nothing  was  more  distressing  to  her,  than  to  be  com- 
pelled to  doubt  the  merit  of  those  who  had  once 
possessed  her  good  opinion.  She  was  tender  to 
the  errors  of  her  servants,  and,  if  virtuous  and 
faithful,  treated  them  as  humble  friends.  None 
had  a  more  correct  estimation  of  relative  duties,  or 


THB   COUNTESS   OF   SUFFOLK.  75 

discharged  them  more  faithfully.  Her  husband, 
parents,  kindred,  friends,  servants,  neighbors — all 
were  witnesses  of  this  truth. 

If  these  are  but  moral  virtues,  there  was  every 
reason  to  beUeve  that  in  her  they  flowed  from  a  ren- 
ovated heart.  Hence  her  love  and  regard  to  the 
truth,  which  in  every  situation  of  life,  led  her  to 
meet  any  danger  auid  ridicule  rather  than  violate  in- 
tegrity. Hence  also  her  active  benevolence, — for 
her  soul  seemed  composed  of  Christian  kindness 
and  compassion.  The  poor  whom  she  knew,  need- 
ed not  to  come  to  her  for  aid  ;  she  sent  clothing, 
food,  medicine,  and  other  comforts  to  their  habita- 
tions, and  provided  houses  for  those  who  had  none. 
She  often  visited  them  to  acquaint  herself  more 
particularly  with  their  persons  and  wants ;  and  if 
any  iiitieated  her  charily  when  she  was  irom  home, 
and  happened  to  be  unprovided,  she  would  borrow 
from  her  friends  to  supply  them. 

Her  charity  extended  beyond  their  temporal 
wants  ;  she  endeavored  to  relieve  and  instruct  their 
minds,  by  admonishing  the  careless,  and  counsel- 
ling the  scrupulous  ;  at  the  same  time  oHering  her 
daily  prayers  on  their  behalf.  She  distributed  her 
bounty  kindly,  and  without  ostentation.  The  poor 
and  distressed,  whom  she  had  so  often  r<'licved,  be- 
wailed at  her  death,  as  for  a  lost  parent,  and  long 
after  thanklully  recognized  her  generosity. 

In  another  species  of  charily,  she  was  exempla- 
ry— that  of  forgiving  injuries,  which  whether  they 
■arose  from  mistake  or  malice,  she  was  ever  ready 
to  pardon  and  forget.  Though  her  memory  on  oth- 
er subjects  was  very  tenacious,  here  she  seemed 
to  have  no  recollection  at  all.     Benefits  and  favors 


76  BIOGRAPHY    OF    I'lOUS    PERSONS. 

were  never  effaced  from  her  iriind ;  but  unkindness, 
though  it  might  for  the  time  make  a  deep  impression 
upon  her  susceptilile  spirit,  was  never  returned  by 
any  similar  act. 

She  possessed  a  strong  faith  in  the  merits  of  a 
Redeemer,  and  a  lively  hope  of  immortality.  Some- 
times the  tenderness  ol"  her  conscience  would  awa- 
ken fears,  which  she  conquered  by  self-recollection 
and  humble  pruyer.  In  times  of  sorrow,  faith  and 
patience  were  her  support.  When  her  only  son 
was  in  the  agonies  of  death,  she  sal  down  almost 
exhausted,  having  poured  out  many  prayers  and 
tears.  When  she  found  that  he  had  indeed  gone, 
she  gave  a  momentary  vent  to  grief,  and  then  took 
her  Bible,  and  applied  herself  to  the  singing  of 
Psalms,  till  the  violence  of  emotion  had  subsided, 
and  her  soul  was  brought  into  tranquil  submission 
lo  the  will  of  God. 

The  lovely  grace  of  humility  was  observable  in 
all  her  actions.  It  was  like  a  robe  covering  her 
from  head  to  fool,  through  which  her  itmumerable 
excellences  shone  with  an  improved  lustre.  She 
suffered  none  of  the  noble  talents  of  her  mind  to 
slumber  in  indolence.  She  remembered  who  had 
given  them,  and  who  would  require  them  again. — 
J;>very  day  was  begun,  and  closed  with  prayer.  As 
soon  as  she  awoke,  she  went  into  her  closet,  and 
performed  her  customary  devotions,  reading  at  the 
same  time  her  portion  in  the  Bible  which  consisted 
of  the  psalms  appointed  for  the  day  of  the  month, 
and  six  chapters  beside  ;  intending  by  this  course  to 
read  the  Bible  twice  in  a  year.  This  method  she 
began  at  the  age  of  15,  and  continued  regularly 
till  her  deatli,  and  if  any  circumstance  compelled 


THE    CODNTE88    OF    SUFFOLK.  77 

her  to  shorten  her  usual  portion,  she  proportionably 
increased  the  number  of  chapters,  at  her  next  read- 
ing season. 

She  was  methodical,  as  well  as  diligent  in  im- 
proving her  time  ;  carefully  allotting  proper  hours 
to  business,  repasts  and  reading.  In  her  daily 
course  of  the  Scriptures,  she  allowed  a  portion  of 
time  to  examine  difficult  passages  by  notes,  and  in- 
terpreters. Many  other  books  of  divinity  likewise 
shared  her  attention,  and  administered  to  her  in- 
struction. She  delighted  much  in  the  Sabbath,  and 
other  seasons  for  devotion,  especially  in  the  prepa- 
ration for  the  Sacrament.  In  this  ordinance  she 
endeavored  frequently  to  participate,  and  found  it  a 
great  assistance  to  her  piety.  She  was  very  atten- 
tive during  preaching,  and  often  repeated  to  her 
family  what  she  remembered  of  the  sermons. 

liike  many  true  believers  she  was  for  a  time  sub- 
ject to  spiritual  doubts,  but  it  pleased  God  to  deliver 
her  from  them,  and  to  grant  her  an  increase  of  con- 
fidence and  comfort.  Her  whole  Ufe  might  be 
styled  a  scene  of  preparation  for  death  ;  and  appre- 
hending its  approach  during  an  illness  that  afflicted 
her,  she  entreated  her  friends  to  reveal  her  real  con- 
dition to  her,  without  reserve.  They  confessed 
that  their  hopes  of  her  life  were  small,  and  that  dis- 
solution seemed  gradually  approaching. 

At  this  she  discovered  neither  terror  or  reluctance, 
but  sending  for  her  near  relatives  and  friends,  with  a 
countenance  solemn  and  serene  took  an  affection- 
ate leave  of  them.  She  gave  them  benedictions, 
counsels  smd  prayers,  adapted  to  each,  especially 
her  husband,  children  and  servants,  tending  to  di- 
rect them  in  the  way  of  well-doing,  that  so  she 


78'  BIOSRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PEllSOMS. 

might  meet  them  again  in  glory.  With  such  affec- 
tion and  zeal  did  she  warn,  and  advise  them,  and 
such  assurances  did  she  give  them  that  she  was  go- 
ing from  pains  and  miseries  to  celestial  rest,  that  the 
remembrance  of  her  words,  and  the  image  of  her 
serene  aspect  could  never  be  efiaced  from  their 
minds.  She  seemed  like  Moses  on  Mount  Pisgah, 
or  Uke  Jacob  on  his  last  couch  distributing  bles- 
sings. One  who  should  have  seen  her  dearest 
friends  and  relatives  full  of  tears  and  lamentations, 
and  herself  unmoved,  counselhng,  comforting,  and 
blessing  them,  would  have  been  ready  to  think  that 
they  were  to  die,  and  that  she  was  giving  them 
Christian  exhortation  and  comfort.  Her  confidence 
in  God,  and  her  spiritual  joy  were  such,  that  the  an- 
ticipation of  death  seemed  to  give  her  a  taste  of  the 
happiness  of  the  life  to  come. 

The  legacy  she  left  to  her  two  dear  children  was, 
her  desire  to  their  father,  that  whatever  outward 
provision  he  made  for  them,  for  which  she  was  not 
anxious,  they  might  be  educated  in  the  strictest  way 
of  religion  :  this  she  had  found  best  for  herself  in 
life ;  and  at  death  she  recommended  it  to  those 
whom  she  most  tenderly  loved.  Yet  alter  approach- 
ing the  confines  of  Death,  looking  him  calmly  in  the 
face,  and  tranquilly  surveying  all  his  terrors,  it  pleas- 
ed the  Almighty  to  bring  her  again  I'rom  the  pit  of 
darkness,  and  continue  her  in  life,  very  unexpected- 
ly, for  six  months  hmger. 

This  miracle,  as  it  appeared,  was  an  instance  of 
the  greatest  mercy  to  another,  and  it  seemed  that 
she  was  restored,  for  a  great  and  necessary  work. 
Her  father.  Earl  Hidland,  was  about  this  time  ar- 
raigned before  the   High  Court  erected  by  Farlia- 


THE    COUNTESS   6f    8DFFOLK.  79 

ment,  and  condemned  to  die.  In  this  affliction  he 
received  inexpressible  comfort  from  his  pious  daugh- 
ter, whom  it  seemed  as  if  Providence  had  brought  for 
his  sake  from  the  brink  of  the  grave.  When  all 
hof>es  of  hia  hfe  were  banished,  she  frequently 
visited  him  in  prison,  and  watched  all  night  in  a  room 
adjoining  his,  that  she  might  be  near  him  in  the 
morning.  In  conversing  on  rehgion,  she  propos- 
ed such  prudent  and  searching  questions,  so  judi- 
ciously applied  both  law  and  gospel,  so  gently  wound- 
ed, and  then  so  kindly  endeavored  to  heal,  that  be- 
ing at  length  much  comforted,  he  exclaimed,  "Hap- 
py am  I,  that  I  should  receive  from  a  child  of  my 
own,  such  consolation."  To  a  divine  who  visited 
him,  he  said,  "  I  thank  God,  that  I  have  a  child 
who  is  able  to  be  my  counsellor  in  all  my  doubts." 

The  distressing  stroke  of  his  execution  she  bore 
>vith  much  Christiati  patience,  acknowledging  it  to 
be  the  wise  method  of  Almighty  God,  to  bestow 
mercy  on  a  soul,  which,  had  it  been  exempted  from 
so  great  a  calamity,  find  still  conversant  with  scenes 
of  prosperity  mv\  temptation,  might  never  so  ear- 
nestly and  humbly  have  sought  him.  She  declared, 
that,  thinking  as  she  thought,  she  could  not,  even  il' 
it  were  lawful,  wish  him  alive  again  ;  she  dared  not 
desire  for  him  so  bad  an  exchange  as  to  leave  heav- 
en for  earth.  Yet  it  was  known  by  all,  that  her  af- 
fection for  him  had  been  uncommonly  tender  and 
strong. 

She  told  a  friend,  that  now,  if  God  would  give 
her  leave,  she  would  retire  into  the  country,  having, 
as  she  said,  so  disposed  her  family  and  business, 
that  she  had  nothing  to  do,  but  to  die.  Those  who 
had  opportimity  to  know,  observed,  that  during  the 


80  BIOGRAPHY  OF   PIOUS   PERSONS. 

six  months  which  succeeded  her  dangerous  sickness 
there  was  not  a  night  in  which  she  rose  from  her 
closet  devotions  without  an  overflowing  of  tears. — 
And  now  her  work  being  done,  Death  approached 
to  claim  her  corruptible  part.  A  few  days  before 
her  departure,  her  intellect  was  aflfected  ;  but  in  one 
of  her  lucid  intervals,  she  poured  out  her  soul  in  a 
comprehensive  prayer  ;  pleading  before  God,  his 
name,  his  attributes,  his  mercies,  the  mediation  of 
his  Son,  and  his  promises,  which  she  drew  from  ev- 
ery part  of  his  word. 

This  seemed  her  last  considerable  interval  of 
reason,  except  that  after  her  strength  was  spent, 
she  recognized  her  friends  when  they  came  to  her, 
signified  her  assurance  of  an  interest  in  Christ,  and 
joined  attentively  in  their  prayers.  About  an  hour 
after,  in  a  quiet  sleep,  she  yielded  her  spirit  to  her 
God,  May  10th,  1649,  in  the  22d  year  of  her  age  ; 
most  tenderly  lamented  by  her  friends,  to  whom  she 
had  been  inexpressibly  dear  and  delightful.  She 
was  early  fitted  for  heaven,  and  early  received  to 
the  participation  of  celestial  joys. 


THE  COITKTESS  OF  WARWICK. 


This  lady  was  the  daughter  of  Richard  Boyle,  the 
first  Earl  of  Cork,  who  began  the  world  with  Uttle  ex- 
cept an  unblemished  character,  and  left  at 

1 630.  his  death  an  immense  estate  to  his  children. 
He  was  originally  a  private  gentleman, 
the  younger  son  of  a  younger  brother,  and  had  no 
other  patrimony  than  what  was  expressed  in  his 
motto — *'  God's  providence  is  my  inheritance."  His 
persevering  exertions  were  crowned  wath  a  state  of 
opulence  and  honor,  yet  he  still  retained  the  motto 
which  he  had  adopted  in  his  poverty,  and  caused  to 
be  writen  on  his  principal  buildings  and  inscribed  on 
his  tonil) — "  God's  providence  is  my  inheritance." 
One  of  his  numerous  sons  was  the  philosopher, 
Robert  Boyle,  a  man  equally  distinguished  by  ge- 
nius, learning  and  piety ;  a  bright  ornament  to  re- 
ligion, and  to  human  nature. 

The  subject  of  these  memoirs  was  a  daughter, 

who  early  in  life  became  the  consort  of  the  Earl  of 

Warwick.     The  powers  of  her  mind  were  strong, 

and  assisted  by  a  regular  and  pious  education  ;  but 

though  her  conduct  was  circumspect  and  amiable, 

she  confessed  that  she  knew  nothing  of  the  life  and 

power  of  religion  in  the  heart,  till  after  her  arrival 

ut  maturity.     She  acknowledged  that  she  entered 
7  ^  - 


82  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

her  husband's  family,  with  erroneous  ideas  of  reli- 
gion, and  strong  prejudices  eigainst  it ;  but  the  true 
devotion  she  saw  there,  the  excellent  preaching  she 
heard,  and  the  amiable  tenderness  of  her  illustrious 
father-in-law,  were  effectual  in  removing  her  dan- 
gerous prepossessions.  Afflictions,  and  occasional 
retirement  were  also  blessed  to  her,  and  served  to 
detach  her  thoughts  from  the  follies  and  pleasures 
of  the  world. 

After  this  happy  change  in  her  sentiments  and 
feelings,  she  became  remarkable  for  gravity,  humility 
and  circumspection,  and  for  a  seraphic  zeal  to  pro- 
mote the  interests  of  religion.  It  seemed  the  great 
object  of  her  life  to  show  forth  the  praises  of  Him 
who  had  called  her  from  darkness  into  marvellous 
light.  She  regularly  kept  a  diary,  in  which  she  re- 
corded the  frame  of  her  heart,  remarkable  providen- 
ces towards  herself  and  others,  answers  of  prayer, 
spiritual  comforts,  temptations  prevailing  or  resisted, 
and  whatever  else  might  be  useful  for  caution  or  en- 
couragement, humiliation  or  gratitude. 

Prayer,  she  used  to  style  "  the  ease  of  the  heart," 
and  such  it  was  to  her.  She  was  not  only  constant 
in  this  duty,  but  so  fervent,  that  when  she  used  not 
an  audible  voice,  her  sighs  and  groans  were  fre- 
quently overheard  from  her  closet.  Prayer  was  the 
element  in  which  she  lived  and  died ;  the  vital 
breath  of  her  soul  which  eventually  wafted  it  to 
heaven.  She  walked  two  hours  every  morning  for 
serious  meditation,  in  which  important  duty  she  was 
a  great  proficient;  sometimes  employing  her  thoughts 
on  particular  subjects,  at  others  extracting  mental 
improvement  from  accidental  occurrences.  Vol- 
umes of  this  kind  she  left  behind  her  in  manuscript. 


THE    COUNTESS    OF    WARWICK.  83 

and  the  parts  that  have  been  published  do  equal 
honor  to  her  head  and  her  heart. 

She  kept  the  Sabbath  with  exemplary  strictness, 
as  the  best  preservative  to  the  life  of  religion.  She 
was  a  devout  communicant,  and  prepared  for  the  re- 
newal of  her  covenant  with  fasting  and  prayer.  If 
she  had  a  particular  interest  in  any  whom  she  ap- 
prehended destitute  of  religion,  she  would  employ 
the  authority  of  friendship,  and  the  persuasive  pow- 
ers of  her  own  eloquence,  to  plead  the  cause  of 
their  own  eternal  salvation.  She  studiously  kept 
herself  disengaged  from  sects  and  parties,  that 
none  might  suspect  her  of  a  design  to  make  pro- 
selytes to  any  but  to  God. 

That  she  might  recommend  piety  to  others,  she 
endeavored  to  make  it  appear  in  its  most  amiable 
and  alluring  form.  To  an  engaging  deportment, 
she  added,  the  attractive  charms  of  Christian  meek- 
ness, courtesy  and  benevolence.  Her  discourse 
in  company  was  both  interesting  and  profitable,  and 
she  evinced  great  dexterity  in  giving  it  an  insensible 
turn  towards  moral  and  serious  subjects.  She 
took  great  care  of  the  souls  of  her  servants,  and  it 
was  her  ambition  to  be  the  mistress  of  a  religious 
family.  This  appeared  in  exacting  their  attendance, 
and  reverent  behaviour,  at  the  public  worship  of 
God, — in  personal  instruction  and  familiar  persua- 
sion,— in  seriously  endeavoring  to  prepare  them  for 
the  Sacrament  and  exhorting  them  to  partake  of  it 
frequently, — in  dispersing  good  books  in  all  com- 
mon rooms  and  places  of  attendance,  that  those  in 
waiting  might  have  profitable  employment, — and  in 
making  religion  in  her  servants,  the  criterion  of  her 
esteem.  She  treated  them  all  as  friends,  but  those 
who  most  feared  the  Ijord,  were  her  favorites. 


84  BIOGRAPHY    OF     PIOUS    PERSONS. 

Neither  was  she  inattentive  to  their  temporal 
interests ;  for  she  seemed  to  find  as  much  satisfac- 
tion in  pleasing  them,  as  the  best  servants  have  in 
pleasing  their  superiors.  She  delighted  to  render 
their  hves  easy,  and  free  from  discontent,  that  so 
they  might  serve  God  with  cheerfulness.  She  ex- 
tended her  generous  care  to  the  period  in  which 
their  earthly  connection  should  be  dissolved,  and 
left  them  legacies  of  2,  3  and  400/.  with  the 
wages  of  a  full  year,  and  permission  to  remain  at 
her  house,  three  months,  as  in  her  life,  that  they 
might  have  sufficient  time  to  seek  other  commodi- 
ous situations. 

She  spared  no  pains  to  accommodate  her  tenants,^ 
and,  if  any  of  them  sustained  material  losses,  was 
accustomed  to  deduct  them  from  their  rent.  No 
inconvenience  could  ever  make  her  recede  from 
obligations  into  which  she  had  entered,  or  even  from 
intimated  promises,  if  she  found  the  expectations 
of  others  were  excited  by  them. 

With  this  sacred  regard  for  truth,  she  coupled 
the  divine  injunction,  "  speak  evil  of  no  man." 
She  would  extenuate  the  failingsof  others,  by  bring- 
ing into  view  the  brighter  parts  of  their  character, 
and  where  she  could  not  commend,  was  silent. 

To  her  parents  she  was  a  pattern  of  duty  and 
respect ; — as  a  sister,  inexpressibly  tender  and  en- 
dearing ;  as  a  friend,  affectionate,  unsuspicious 
and  faithful.  Her  excellence  as  a  mother,  ajipear- 
ed  in  the  education  of  her  son,  a  promising  youth, 
who  died  before  her  ;  and  in  the  instruction  of  three 
young  ladies,  whom  she  adopted,  and  to  whom  she 
was  a  mother  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word.  As  a 
\vife,  it  may  be  truly  said  that  "  the  heart  of  her 


THE    COUNTESS    OF    WARWICK.  85 

husband  safely  trusted  in  her,  and  she  did  him  good, 
and  not  evil,  all  the  days  of  her  life."  She  hved 
under  a  constant  and  impressive  sense  of  the  cov- 
enant of  God  which  was  between  them ;  mingUng- 
uncommon  tenderness  and  affection  with  a  conduct 
uniformly  complying.  She  concealed  his  infirmi- 
ties, sympathized  in  his  indispositions,  and  attended 
him  with  the  greatest  kindness.  Above  all  she 
loved  his  soul ;  fervently  praying  for  him,  and  coun- 
selling him  with  mingled  zeal  and  prudence. 

Among  other  testimonials  of  esteem  and  gratitude, 
he  gave  her,  by  will,  his  whole  estate,  and  left  her 
his  sole  executrix.  This  arduous  task  she  discharg- 
ed with  such  attention,  prudence  and  accuracy,  as 
more  than  satisfied  all  who  were  concerned,  and 
this  event  she  acknowledged,  as  a  visible,  and  distin- 
guishing mercy.  During  the  life  of  Earl  Warwick, 
she  had  a  stated  yearly  allowance,  and  anxiously 
inquired  of  her  minister,  what  portion  of  their  sub- 
stance he  supposed  people  were  bound  to  conse- 
crate to  the  poor.  On  liis  suggesting  a  seventh 
part,  she  immediately  answered  that  she  could  not 
think  of  less  than  a  third  ;  and  this  proportion  she 
accordingly  set  apart  for  charitable  uses. 

The  most  pressing  exigencies  of  a  different  kind 
never  induced  her  to  infringe  on  this  dedicated  sum, 
though  she  often  borrowed  from  the  remainder  of 
her  property  to  increase  it ;  and  anticipated  her  in- 
comes rather  tlian  restrain  her  hberality. 

When  she  came  into  possession  of  the  large  es- 
tate bequeatlied  her  by  her  husband,  her  manage- 
ment of  it  confirmed  the  truth  of  the  remark  uttered 
by  a  person  of  high  eminence,  "  that  the  Earl  of 
Warwick  had  given  all  his  estate  to  piow  i«e»." 
7* 


86  BIOGRAPHY    OK    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

She  seemed  to  have  no  satisfaction  in  great  posses- 
sions but  that  of  doing  extensive  good  ;  and  fre- 
quently declared  that  she  would  not  be  incumbered 
with  the  largest  estate  in  England  on  any  other  con- 
ditions. That  her  charity  was  judicious  as  well  as 
generous,  appears  from  the  objects  on  which  she 
bestowed  it : — 

1.  Persons,  really  in  want,  whom  the  remem- 
brance of  better  days,  or  a  native  modesty  and  del- 
icacy prevented  from  complaining  of  their  necessi- 
ties. Such  she  liberally  relieved,  without  solicitation, 
and  with  such  gentleness  and  meekness  as  seemed 
to  express  a  desire  to  gain  their  pardon,  rather  than 
deserve  thanks. 

2.  Foreigners,  who  in  those  days  of  calamity 
fled  from  their  native  country  to  preserve  their  per- 
secuted religion.  To  these  she  evinced  that  she 
honored  the  goodness  of  their  cause,  and  found 
pleasure  in  tenderly  administering  to  their  neces- 
sities. 

3.  Scholars  of  promising  dispositions  and  capa- 
cities, but  of  slender  resources,  whom  she  educated 
in  great  numbers  at  the  universities,  allowing  them 
at  the  same  time  an  annual  sum  of  20  or  30/.  as 
she  supposed  their  needs  required. 

4.  Poor  children  ; — whom,  if  she  could  persuade 
to  learn,  she  placed  at  school  in  neighboring  towns, 
not  only  paying  for  their  instruction,  but  supj)lying 
them  with  books  and  clothing.  This  noble  charity 
she  exercised  not  only  near  home,  but  even  the  dis- 
tant regions  of  Wales,  shared  liberally  in  her  bounty. 

6.  Ministers  of  every  denomination,  whose  liv- 
ings were  uicompetent  to  support  their  families  with 
(lecopcy. 


THE    COUNTESS    OF     WARWICK.  87 

6.  Occasional  applicants  of  almost  every  cha- 
racter ;  and  though  sometimes  deceived  and  abused 
in  such  cases,  she  was  not  deteri'ed  from  giving  ; 
often  saying,  "  I  would  rather  relieve  ten  who  ap- 
j>ear  proper  objects,  and  are  not,  than  to  let  one  in 
real  distress  go  unreUeved  ;  for  if  tliey  deceive  mo 
in  giving,  God  will  not  deceive  me  in  accepting  what 
is  sincerely  done  for  his  name's  sake. 

7.  The  poor  around  her  whom  she  knew.  These 
she  fed  in  great  numbers,  not  with  fragments,  but 
with  generous  supplies  purposely  provided.  She 
suppUed  them  with  medicines,  pesonally  visited  the 
meanest  of  them,  to  converse  with,  to  instruct,  and 
to  comfort  them.  Her  love  and  compassion  for 
them  was  unbounded.  Twice  a  week  she  provided 
bread  and  beef  for  the  poor  of"  four  adjacent  pa- 
rishes ;  and  ordered  in  her  will  that  the  same  bounty 
should  be  continued  after  her  death,  and  a  hundred 
pounds  distributed  to  the  poor  of  four  other  pa- 
rishes. 

This  was  the  amiable,  the  noble,  the  exemplary 
life  of  the  Countess  of  Warwick.  "  Give  her  of 
the  fruits  of  her  hands,  and  let  her  own  works  praise 
her  in  the  gates." — From  a  passage  in  her  diary, 
written  the  last  Lord's  day  of  her  health,  it  appears 
that  she  had  some  impressions  of  her  approaching 
dissolution.  The  Tuesday  following  she  was  seized 
with  an  iiulisposition  from  which  she  never  recovered. 
She  discoursed  with  great  cheerfulness ;  and  the 
last  sentence  she  was  heard  to  utter,  was  to  some 
friends  who  surrounded  her,  as  she  drew  the  curtains 
of  her  bed — "  If  I  were  but  one  hour  in  heaven,  I 
would  not  be  again  with  you,  as  much  as  I  love 
you." — Soon  after,  having  proposed  prayer,  she. 


88  BIOGRAPHY   OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

almost  as  soon  as  it  was  begun,  heaved  a  sigh  as 
she  sat  in  her  chair,  turned  pale,  and  immediately 
expired  ;  according  to  her  own  often  repeated  re- 
quest— "  that  if  she  might  choose  the  manner  and 
circumstances  of  her  death,  she  would  die  pray- 
ing,"— 

"  A  soul  prcpar'd  needs  no  delays, 
The  summons  comes,  the  saint  obeys ; — 
Swift  was  her  flight,  and  short  the  road, 
She  clos'd  her  eyes,  and  saw  her  God." 


REV.  PHILIP  HE]!CRY. 


Philip  Henry  was  born  at  Whitehall,  (West- 
minster) on  Wednesday,  August  24th,   1631.     His 

father  had  the  office   of  keeper  of  the 
1631.       Orchard,  and  attendant  upon  the  king's 

second  son,  James  Duke  of  York.  He 
was  very  sincere  in  his  attachment  to  the  unfortu- 
nate Charles  First,  and  a  deep  mourner  for  his  un- 
timely death.  A  little  anecdote  is  recorded,  illus- 
trative of  his  constant  and  fearless  affection.  The 
im|>risoned  monarch,  insulted  and  despised,  going 
under  guard  to  his  trial  at  Westminster,  passed  the 
door  of  this  faithful  attendant,  who  was  eager  to 
present  him  his  affectionate  respects,  and  in  spite  of 
the  menaces  of  the  guard  prayed  fervently  that 
'<  God  would  bless  his  Majesty."  This  must  have 
been  soothing  to  the  heart  of  him  who  suffered  ma- 
ny insults,  "  on  whose  visage  every  eye  did  scowl, 
and  no  tongue  cried,  God  save  him." 

The  mother  of  the  subject  of  these  memoirs,  was 
of  the  family  of  Rochdales,  in  Westminster.  She 
was  a  woman  of  great  virtue  and  piety,  though  her 
lot  was  cast  among  the  vanities  and  temptations  of 
a  court     She  was  careful  to  instruct  her  children  in 


90  BIOGRAPHY   OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

the  precepts  and  practice  of  religion,  catechised 
them,  and  not  satisfied  with  praying  tor  theni^  daily 
prayed  with  them.  Observing  in  this  her  only  son, 
early^  inclinations  to  learning  and  piety,  she  solemn- 
ly devoted  him  in  his  tender  years  to  the  service  of 
God  in  the  vi^ork  of  the  ministry.  To  the  close  of 
his  life  he  was  accustomed  to  express  peculiar  grat- 
itude to  Heaven  for  the  benefit  of  such  a  parent, 
who  poured  pious  instruction  upon  his  unformed 
mind,  and  unceasingly  solicited  for  him  the  dews  of 
divine  grace.  After  some  time  spent  in  the  study 
of  the  languages,  he  was  received  into  Westminster 
school  in  the  fourth  form  ;  then  into  the  upjier  school 
under  the  celebrated  Dr.  Busby ;  then  to  the  honor 
of  King's  Scholar. 

At  his  mother's  request  he  was  permitted  to  at- 
tend a  daily  lecture,  established  by  seven  pious  min- 
isters of  the  assembly  of  Divines.  This,  which  he 
attended  without  any  abatement  of  his  school  exer- 
cises, was  the  instrument  of  much  good  to  his 
young  mind.  At  the  age  of  eleven  years  he  began 
the  practice  of  writing  what  he  could  recollect  from 
the  Sermons  he  heard,  continued  it  until  the  decay 
of  his  sight,  a  little  previous  to  his  death,  and  recom- 
mended it  to  others,  as  a  method  of  fixing  the  atten- 
tion, strengthening  the  memory,  and  assisting  seri- 
ous meditation. 

But  while  he  was  prosecuting  his  studies  with 
diligence  and  success,  the  all-wise  Providence  of 
God  was  preparing  to  write  him  an  orphan.  His 
mother  lay  upon  the  couch  of  languishing,  and  in 
the  midst  of  her  sufferings  was  heard  to  exclaim — 
"  my  head  is  in  heaven  ;  my  heart  is  in  heaven  : — 
one  step  more,  and  I  shall  be  there  also."     On  the 


REV.    PHILIP    HENRT.  91 

6th  of  March,  1645,  she  departed  ; — and  to  her  chil- 
dren was  fulfilled  what  the  strong  faith  of  the  Psalm- 
ist once  affirmed,  "  when  my  father  and  my  mother 
forsake  me,  then  the  Lord  will  take  me  up." 

Two  years  after,  Philip  Henry,  in  the  sixteenth 
year  of  his  age,  publicly  gave  himself  up  to  God, 
and  joined  in  covenant  with  his  people.  On  this 
solemn  occasion  he  writes — "  there  had  been  trea- 
ties before,  between  my  soul  and  Jesus  Christ ;  but 
then  confessing  my  sins,  casting  away  all  my  trans- 
gressions, receiving  him  as  my  righteousness,  dedi- 
cating myself  absolutely  and  unreservedly  to  his  fear 
and  service,  and  then  coming  to  this  ordinance,  there 
1  received  him  indeed,  and  he  became  mine  : — / 
say  mine."  lie  mentions  with  gratitude.  Dr.  Bus- 
by's careful  attention  for  some  time  previous  in  ex- 
plaining the  nature  of  the  ordinance,  exciting  to  se- 
rious preparation,  and  appointing  religious  exercises, 
instead  of  the  customary  scholastic  ones, — "  for 
which,"  writes  the  young  communicant,  "  tlie  Lord 
recompense  a  thousand  fold  into  his  bosom." 

In  December,  1647,  he  was  entered  a  student  at 
Christ's  College,  Oxford,  and  addressed  himself 
vigorously  to  its  peculiar  studies.  He  was  on  a 
visit  at  London,  when  Charles  First  was  beheaded, 
and  with  a  mournful,  heart  witnessed  that  tragical 
scene.  He  noticed  that  at  the  instant  the  fatal  blow 
was  struck,  such  a  dismal  and  universal  groan  arose 
from  ihe  thousands  surrounding  the  scaffold,  as  he 
never  before  heard,  and  had  not  power  to  describe  : 
and  that  immediately  the  soldiers  came  marching  in 
separate  bodies,  according  to  previous  orders,  to 
disperse  the  people,  and  to  scatter  their  distressing 
thoughts  by  forcuig  them  to  seek  their  own  safety. 


92  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

He  returned,  and  resumed  his  University  studies, 
and  was  favored  with  many  advantages,  for  obtain* 
ing  both  classical  and  religious  instruction. 

Some  of  his  contemporary  students  used  to  asso- 
ciate for  the  purposes  of  prayer,  and  religious  con- 
ference, which  were  blest  to  their  preparation  for  the 
future  duties  of  the  ministry.  He  received  his  de- 
grees of  Bachelor,  and  Master  of  Arts,  and  answer- 
ed the  Latin  philosophical  questions  with  great  ap- 
plause. A  copy  of  Latin  verses  of  his,  is  printed 
among  the  Oxford  university  poems,  which  confer 
on  him  that  reputation  as  a  poet  which  he  had  before 
gained  as  an  orator.  Soon  after  taking  his  degree 
of  Master  of  Arts  he  preached  his  first  sermon  from 
John  viii.  34.  "  Whosoever  committeth  sin  is  the 
servant  of  sin,"  and  the  Christian  hearers  rejoiced 
that  he  could  so  willingly  lay  aside  the  enticing 
words  of  man's  wisdom  for  the  purity  and  simplicity 
of  the  gospel.  Yet  notwithstanding  his  diligence, 
his  attainments  and  reputation,  humility  led  him  to 
perceive  and  lament  lost  time  and  neglected  oi)por- 
tunities,  and  in  one  of  his  visits  to  the  place  of  his 
education,  he  inserts  in  his  diary, — "  a  tear  dropt 
over  my  university  sins." 

At  leaving  Oxford  he  was  requested  to  preach 
as  a  candidate  in  the  church  of  Worthenburg,  and 
to  officiate  as  chaplain  and  private  tutor  in  the  family 
of  Judge  Puleston,  the  most  pious  and  influential 
man  in  those  parts.  His  constant  exertions  in  this 
new  sphere  of  usefulness,  his  amiable  and  exem- 
plary conduct,  so  gained  him  the  friendship  of  his 
patron,  that  he  cunfinncd  to  him  the  lease  ol"  a 
house  erected  purposely  for  him,  and  the  sum  ol" 
100/.  a  year  while  he  should  continue  the  minister 


REV.    PHILIP    HENRY.  93 

of  Worthenburg.  On  the  16th  of  Sept.  1667, 
he  was  publicly  ordained  in  the  parish  church,  and 
entered  on  the  work  of  his  ministry. 

The  sphere  was  narrow  and  confined  for  such  a 
burning  and  shining  light,  the  number  of  commu- 
nicants was  only  41,  and  the  congregation  princi- 
pally composed  of  poor  tenants  and  laborers,  but 
the  souls  of  such,  he  would  say,  "  were  precious  in 
the  sight  of  God,"  and  he  carefully  and  affection- 
ately performed  his  duty  towards  them,  refusing  the 
offers  that  were  made  him,  which  might  have  flatter- 
ed his  ambition  and  promoted  his  secular  interest. 

In  labors  he  was  abundant :  beside  preaching, 
he  expounded  the  Scriptures  in  order,  catechised 
and  explained  the  Catechism,  receiving  into  the 
number  of  his  Catechumens,  adults  as  well  as  chil- 
dren, because  he  perceived  that  they  needed  instruc- 
tion. He  established  a  monthly  lecture  of  two  ser- 
mons ;  and  a  conference,  where  he  encouraged  famil- 
iar discourse  of  spriritual  things,  that  he  might  better 
understand  the  state  of  his  flock,  and  adapt  his  ser- 
mons and  prayers  to  their  individual  cases.  He 
was  very  diligent  in  visiting  the  sick,  instructing 
them,  and  praying  with  them ;  and  in  this  service 
said,  "  he  aimed  at  the  good,  not  only  of  those 
who  were  sick,  but  also  of  the  relations  and 
friends  that  were  ai)Out  them."  He  [>reached  fune- 
ral sermons  lor  all  who  were  buried  there,  of  what- 
ever rank  or  age,  for  he  considered  it  a  time  to  scat- 
ter the  good  seed  of  the  word,  when  Providence 
had  softened  the  heart  for  its  reception.  In  his 
preaching  and  adininistnition  of  i>rdinances,  he  «a.s 
plain  and  atlectionute,  laying  u^mlo  his  great  learu- 
8 


94  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

ing,  that  he  might  suit  the  capacities  of  the  unlearn- 
ed, and  win  souls  to  Christ. 

His  diary  records  the  affections  and  emotions  of 
his  soul,  whether  in  his  study,  closet  or  pulpit,  for 
he  kept  his  heart  with  all  diligence.  "  For  three 
things  he  was  remarkable,"  says  a  writer  of  those 
times  ;  "  great  piety  and  devotion,  and  much  savor 
of  them  in  his  conversation  ;  great  industry  in  the 
pursuit  of  useful  knowledge  ;  great  self-denial  and 
eminent  humihty,  which  cast  a  lustre  upon  his  other 
graces :  and  though  like  all  zealous  servants  of 
Jesus  Christ  he  was  not  without  opposers,  yet  the 
vox  j)opuli  fastened  upon  him  the  epithet  of  Heav^ 
enly  Henry. 

He  would  receive  no  compensation  for  any  min- 
isterial services,  except  his  stated  salary,  which  he 
had  agreed  to  accept  of  the  Puleston  family  in  lieu 
of  the  usual  tithe :  yet  of  his  little  portion  he  con- 
stantly laid  by  a  tenth  part  for  the  poor,  adopting 
the  words  of  Daniel,  "  of  thine  own.  Lord,  have 
we  given  thee." 

Afler  finding  him  so  faithful  in  the  concerns  of  oth- 
ers, entrusted  to  his  care,  let  us  view  him  in  the  man- 
agement of  his  own ;  in  his  house  and  his  family, 
for  there  the  hearts  of  men  are  most  successfully 
developed.  He  selected  as  a  partner  for  life,  Cath- 
arine, the  only  child  of  Mr.  Daniel  Matthews  of 
Broad  Oak,  and  on  the  26th  of  April,  1660,  entered 
into  the  holy  bonds  of  matrimony.  In  this  design 
he  had  carefully  sought  the  direction  of  God  in 
prayer,  fearing  without  his  guidance,  to  take  a  step 
which  might  materially  influence  his  temporal  and 
eternal  happiness.  The  day  previous  to  his  mar- 
riage, he  devoted  to  secret  prayer  and  fasting,  and 


REV.    PHILIP    HENRV.  96 

God  was  pleased  to  bless  an  union  so  religiously  be- 
gun. His  diary  often  records  his  great  satisfaction  in 
this  choice,  and  his  fervent  thanks  to  the  Almighty 
who  had  given  him  "  an  helper  and  a  Comforter." 

He  was  now  found  exemplary  in  family  religion, 
and  would  often  say,  "we  are  really  what  we 
are  relatively ;  it  is  not  so  much  what  we  are  at 
church,  as  what  we  are  in  our  families."  He  be- 
lieved the  secret  duties  of  the  closet  to  have  a  great 
eflect  upon  the  conduct  of  life,  and  was  very  faithful 
in  their  performance.  Merely  upon  the  occasion 
of  removing  his  closet  from  one  room  to  another, 
he  records  this  request  in  his  daily  journal :  "  This 
day  my  new  closet  was  consecrated  by  prayer ;  and 
may  all  the  prayers  that  shall  ever  be  made  in  it, 
according  to  the  will  of  God,  morning,  evening,  and 
at  noon,  ordinary  or  extraordinary,  be  accepted  of 
him,  and  obtain  a  gracious  answer."  Beside  se- 
cret prayer,  he  and  his  consort  constantly  prayed 
together,  morning  and  evening,  without  a  single 
omission  when  they  were  together,  either  at  home 
or  abroad.  This  he  would  recommend  to  others, 
from  his  own  experience  of  its  benefit,  adding  that 
those  who  were  thus  united  were  bound  to  do  all 
in  their  power  to  help  each  other  to  heaven,  and 
that  they  were  thus  excited  to  "  live  together  aa 
heirs  of  the  grace  of  life,  that  their  prayers  be  not 
hindered." 

When  abroad  or  on  journeys  he  accidentally 
lodged  with  his  friends,  he  constantly  reminded 
them,  that  "  those  who  sleep  together,  should  pray 
together,"  and  in  this  performance  of  duty  was 
usually  short  but  often  much  afi'ected.  Many  to 
whom  he  gave  this  advice  and  example,  have  bles- 


96  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

sed  God  for  him,  and  for  his  instructions.  Family 
worship  in  all  its  parts  he  performed  conscientious- 
ly from  the  day  he  was  first  called  to  the  charge  of 
a  house,  till  the  day  of  his  release  from  earth. 
He  attended  it  early  in  the  morning,  before  the  in- 
trusion and  hurry  of  worldly  concerns,  and  also 
early  in  the  evening  before  the  children  and  servants 
retired.  He  would  tell  those  who  complained  they 
could  not  find  time  for  it,  that  if  they  would  arm 
themselves  with  Christian  resolution,  other  difficulties 
would  vanish,  that  it  was  a  great  preserver  of  order 
and  decency  in  a  family,  and  would  bring  a  blessing 
upon  them,  and  their  possessions. 

He  was  desirous  that  all  under  his  roof  should 
join  with  him,  not  only  strangers  and  visitors,  but 
workmen  and  day-laborers.  His  first  exercise  was 
a  short  but  solemn  prayer,  imploring  the  divine  pre- 
sence and  blessing  upon  this  his  reasonable  service, 
then  the  singing  of  a  psalm,  in  which  the  whole 
family  joined,  then  the  reading  and  explanation  of  a 
portion  of  Scripture,  of  which  his  children  were  re- 
quired to  give  him  an  account,  and  afterwards  to 
write,  as  a  method  of  exciting  their  attention, 
strengthening  their  memories,  and  storing  their  minds 
with  good  things.  Then  followed  his  prayer  in  the 
midst  of  his  kneeling  family,  his  thanksgiving  for 
their  mercies,  his  confession  of  their  sins,  his  inter- 
cession for  needful  blessings.  He  observed  the 
custom  of  Job,  who  "  offered  burnt  offerings  for  his 
children  according  to  the  number  of  them  all,"  so 
he  would  often  present  a  petition  for  each  child,  and 
always  on  the  return  of  their  respective  birth  days, 
would  return  thanks  for  them  as  a  gift,  and  request 
renewed  favors  for  them.     For  every  servant,  and 


REV.    PHILIP   HENRY.  97 

sojourner  who  entered  or  left  the  family,  he  would 
address  a  separate  petition  suited  to  their  circum- 
stances. 

He  was  daily  mindful  of  all  who  desired  his 
prayers,  and  very  careful  to  notice  particular  provi- 
dences ;  concluding  his  morning  and  evening  wor- 
ship, with  a  doxology  and  solemn  benediction.  Im- 
mediately after  the  service,  his  children  together, 
with  bended  knee,  came  to  entreat  a  blessing  of 
him  and  their  mother,  and  to  desire  them  to  pray 
to  God  to  bless  them.  Their  blessing  was  given 
with  great  solemnity  and  affection,  always  remem- 
bering any  of  them  who  might  be  absent — "  The 
Lord  bless  you,  and  your  brother,  (or  you  and  your 
sister)  who  is  absent  Thus  did  he  daily  bless  his 
household,  and  with  such  fervor,  such  affection, 
such  variety  of  service,  that  none  said,  what  a  wea- 
riness is  it ;  his  family  viewed  it  not  as  a  task  but 
a  pleasure,  and  those  accidentally  present  were 
constrained  to  say,  "  behold,  how  good  and  how 
pleasant  it  is  for  brethren  so  to  dwell  together  in 
unity." 

On  Sabbath  evenings  he  was  usually  more  full 
in  prayer,  soliciting  a  blessing  upon  the  churches, 
and  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  universally,  and 
was  often  observed  to  be  absorbed  in  the  work,  as 
if  he  found  the  service  its  own  reward,  or  (as  it 
were,)  dwelt  for  a  time,  like  Moses,  in  the  mount 
with  God.  On  that  day,  he  constantly  sung  a 
psalm  after  dinner,  and  after  supper,  beside  those  in 
the  stated  service,  and  in  the  evening  examined  his 
children  and  servants,  in  the  sense  and  meaning  of 
their  Catechism,  and  heard  them  repeat  what  they 
could  recollect  of  the  sermons  of  the  day. 
8* 


98  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

On  Thursday  evenings,  he  catechised  them,  ex- 
amined them  in  their  knowledge  of  the  useful  books 
they  had  read,  and  of  their  acquauitance  with  the 
Scriptures.  On  Saturday  evenings  they  rendered 
him  an  account  of  the  several  chapters  they  had 
heard  him  read  and  explain  during  the  week.  This 
he  called  gathering  up  the  fragments  that  nothing 
might  be  lost ;  and  would  sometimes  say  aftection- 
ately  in  the  words  of  Christ  to  his  disciples,  "  have 
ye  understood  all  these  things  V  and  if  not,  he 
would  explain  them  more  fully,  managing  the 
whole  exercise  with  so  much  prudence  and  sweet- 
ness, that  with  the  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures  he 
instilled  the  love  of  them  also. 

Thus  was  he  the  prophet  and  the  priest  of  his 
own  house,  and  he  was  a  king  there  likewise,  ruling 
in  the  wisdom  and  fear  of  God,  and  not  suffering 
even  the  "  appearance  of  evil."  He  had  once  a 
servant  who  was  overtaken  with  intemperance 
abroad,  for  which  the  next  morning  at  family  wor- 
ship, he  solemnly  reproved  him,  admonished  him, 
prayed  for  him  with  a  spirit  of  meekness,  ancl  soon 
after  dismissed  him.  But  many  of  his  servants,  by 
the  influence  of  Heaven  upon  his  endeavors,  receiv- 
ed abiding  religious  impressions,  and  blessed  God 
that  they  ever  came  under  his  roof.  Few  went 
from  his  service  till  they  were  called  to  families  of 
their  own,  and  many  who  had  buried  their  yoke- 
fellows, returned  again  to  his  service,  saying,  "  Mas- 
ter, it  is  good  for  us  to  be  here." 

His  children, — for  God  had  given  him  four 
daughters  and  two  sons, — he  brought  up  with  un- 
speakable care  and  tenderness,  being  watchful 
never  "  to  provoke  them  to  wrath,  or  to  discourage 


REV.    PHILIP    HENRY.  99 

them,  but  to  hold  them  in  the  nurture  and  admoni- 
tion of  the  Lord."  He  indeed  preserved  his  au- 
thority, but  it  was  with  wisdom  and  love,  and  not 
with  an  high  hand,  always  allowing  them  freedom 
of  discourse  with  him,  that  he  might  find  the  ave- 
nue to  their  hearts,  and  enter,  bearing  precious  seed. 
He  was  their  constant  instructor,  taught  them  all  to 
write  himself,  and  made  them  early  record  the 
memory  of  sermons,  and  other  useful  extracts. 
He  taught  his  eldest  daughter  the  Hebrew  tongue, 
at  the  age  of  6  or  7  years,  by  a  Grammar  which  ho 
compiled  for  her,  and  she  made  such  proficiency  as 
to  be  able  readily  to  read  and  construe  a  Hebrew 
Psalm.  He  sometimes  employed  them  to  write 
from  the  Scriptures  whatever  appeared  to  them 
forcible  or  impressive,  and  gave  each  of  them  a 
book  to  record  what  they  thought  remarkable  in  the 
volumes  he  selected  for  them  to  peruse. 

He  not  only  taught  his  children  to  pray  by  his 
own  example,  but  appointed  them  a  part  of  every 
Saturday  afternoon,  to  spend  together,  or  with  those 
of  their  age  who  might  occasionally  be  there,  in 
reading  good  books,  singing  and  prayer,  sometimes 
telling  them  for  their  encouragement,  that  the  God 
whom  they  addressed,  understood  broken  language  ; 
and  that  if  they  offered  the  best  they  were  able,  in 
the  sincerity  of  their  hearts,  they  would  not  only  be 
accepted,  but  taught  to  do  better,  "  for  unto  him 
that  hath  (and  useth  what  he  hath)  more  shall  be 
given."  For  their  use  he  drew  up  the  following 
concise  covenant : — "  I  take  God  the  Father  to  be 
my  chief  end  and  highest  good.  I  take  God  the 
Son  to  bo  my  Prince  and  Saviour.  I  take  God  tho 
Holy  Ghost  to  be  my  Sanctifier,  Teacher,  Guide 


100  BIOGRAPHY    Of    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

and  Comforter.  I  take  the  word  of  God  to  be  the 
rule  of  all  my  actions.  I  take  the  people  of  God 
to  be  my  people  in  all  conditions.  I  do  likewise 
devote  and  dedicate  unto  the  TiOrd,  my  whole  self, 
all  I  am,  all  I  have,  all  I  can  do.  And  this  I  do,  de- 
liberately, sincerely,  freely, — forever." 

Thus  each  of  his  children  solemnly  repeated  to 
him  every  Sabbath  evening,  and  he  labored  to  give 
them  an  understanding  of  it,  and  to  persuade  them 
to  consent  to  it,  not  with  the  Ups  only,  but  with  the 
heart.  When  they  arrived  at  years  of  discretion, 
each  of  them  transcribed  and  very  solemnly  signed 
it,  which  he  told  them  he  would  keep,  and  produce 
as  a  testimony  against  them,  if  they  should  depart 
from  God,  and  despise  his  service.  In  reasoning 
with  them  of  their  spiritual  state  he  would  press 
upon  their  minds  the  circumstance  of  infant  baptism, 
that  they  were  dedicated  to  God,  and  bound  to  be 
his  servants.  "  I  am  thy  servant,  and  the  son  of 
thine  handmaid."  This  he  would  illustrate  by  the 
comparison  of  taking  a  lease  of  a  fair  estate  for  a 
child  in  the  cradle,  who  without  capability  of  con- 
senting to  the  act,  hath  still  a  maintenance  out  of 
it,  and  an  interest  in  it,  with  power  to  reject  or  con- 
firm the  instrument  when  arrived  at  years  of  matu- 
rity. "  Now,  children,  our  great  Landlord  was 
willing  that  your  lives  should  be  put  into  the  lease 
of  heaven  and  happiness,  and  it  was  done  accord- 
ingly by  your  baptism,  which  is  the  seal  of  righteous- 
ness by  faith ;  and  by  that  it  was  assured  to  you, 
that  if  you  would  pay  the  rent  and  do  the  service, 
that  is,  live  a  life  of  faith,  repentance  and  sincere 
obedience,  you  shall  never  be  cast  off';  but  if  you 
dislike  the  terms  and  refuse  to  pay  the  rent, — tor- 


REV.    PHILIP    HENRY.  101 

feit  now  the  lease."  Thus  would  he  make  plain  to 
them  the  nature  of  this  ordinance,  and  would  some- 
times say  to  his  friends — "  if  infant  baptism  were 
more  improved,  it  would  be  less  disputed." 

At  the  age  of  16  his  children  approached  the 
ordinance  oi  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  made  that 
solemn  covenant  their  own  act  and  deed.  Very 
great  care  he  took  to  prepare  them  for  that  solemn 
event,  and  was  repaid  by  their  exemplary  and  pious 
conduct,  and  his  labors  in  their  education  were  so 
rendered  effectual  by  the  blessing  of  God,  that  they 
gave  him  inexpressible  comfort,  and  when  they  were 
placed  in  families  of  their  own,  they  walked  in  the 
steps  of  their  teacher,  as  he  also  followed  Christ. 
"  Verily,  he  had  no  greater  joy  than  to  see  his  chil- 
dren walking  in  truth." 

Five  of  his  children  arrived  at  years  of  maturity, 
and  were  judiciously  and  happily  disposed  of  in  the 
world,  when  he  was  summoned  to  quit  it,  but  his 
eldest  son,  a  child  of  good  parts,  and  most  sweet 
disposition,  died  of  the  measles,  at  the  age  of  six 
years.  lie  has  left  this  short  memorial  of  him, 
"  Praeterque  aetatem  nil  puerile  fuit."  This  was 
a  great  affliction  to  the  affectionate  parents,  and  Mr. 
Henry  writes  in  his  diary,  "  Lord,  shew  mc  where- 
fore thou  contendcst  with  mc.  Have  I  over  boast- 
ed, over  loved  ?  That  child  had  been  always  very 
patient  under  rebukes,  the  remembrance  of  which 
teacheth  me  how  to  behave  under  the  rebukes  of  my 
heavenly  father.  I  have  laid  him  in  the  cold  earth : 
I  shall  go  to  him,  but  he  shall  not  return  to  me." 
Many  years  after  he  writes,  "  This  day  fourteen 
years,  the  Lord  took  my  first  born  son  from  me, 
the   beginning  of  my  strength,  with  a  stroke.     la 


102  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

memory  whereof  my  heart  melted  this  evening. 
1  bless  the  Lord  that  hath  spared  the  rest,  I  entreat- 
ed mercy  for  every  one  of  them,  absolutely  and  un- 
reservedly dedicating  them,  myself,  my  whole  self, 
estate,  interest,  life,  to  the  will  of  Him,  from  whom 
I  received  all.     Father,  hallowed  be  thy  name." 

When  his  only  surviving  son  had  attained  his 
tenth  year,  he  was  seized  with  a  lingering  fever,  and 
so  reduced,  that  his  life  was  despaired  of,  and  death 
daily  expected.  The  afflicted  father,  watching  the 
agonies  of  a  promising  and  beloved  child,  was 
sent  for  to  preach  at  a  considerable  distance,  and  felt 
it  his  duty  to  leave  him,  though  perhaps  he  j^hould 
see  him  alive  no  more  on  earth.  He  left  his  house 
very  sad  in  spirit,  performed  the  work  that  was  as- 
signed him,  returned,  and  his  son  still  lived.  "  At 
such  a  place  and  time  upon  the  road,"  said  he, 
"  I  did  most  solemnly,  freely  and  deliberately,  re- 
sign my  dear  child  to  God,  to  do  what  he  pleased 
with  him  and  me."  "  And  I  believe,  sir,  (said  an 
aged  and  pious  friend  who  came  to  assist  in  their 
time  of  affliction)  I  believe,  at  that  place  and  time, 
God  gave  him  back  to  you  again,"  for  from  that 
period  he  speedily  and  almost  miraculously  recover- 
ed. His  eldest  sister  writes,  "  I  was  then  a  child 
of  eight  years,  and  could  think  but  as  a  child, 
yet  this  discourse  very  much  affected  me,  and 
tended  to  endear  my  brother  more  to  me,  who  I 
believed  was-given  back  to  us  in  an  extraordinary 
manner." 

This  worthy  man  had  many  times  and  measures 
of  affliction,  being  heir  to  the  promise  that  "  all 
who  would  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus  shall  suffer 
tribulation."      Upon  the  death  of  Judge   Puleston 


REV.    PHILIP    HENRY.  103 

and  his  lady,  the  rest  of  the  family,  not  realizing 
the  value  of  a  godly  minister,  and  "  loving  this 
present  world,"  withheld  his  annuity  and  ejected 
him  from  his  office  without  alleging  any  fault,  ex- 
cept his  not  reading  or  using  the  Book  of  Common 
Prayer.  A  servant  of  Mr.  Puleston  gave  public 
notice  to  the  church  that  he  was  to  be  dismissed, 
and  the  same  day  he  preached  his  farewell  dis- 
course from  Philippians  i.  27.  "  Only  let  your  con- 
versation be  as  it  becometh  the  gospel  of  Christ." 
Soon  after  he  retired  to  his  wife's  paternal  estate 
in  Broad  Oak,  and  though  he  ceased  to  preach  to 
this  people  he  continued  to  love  and  pray  for  them, 
still  feeling  as  if  a  kind  of  relation  subsisted  be- 
tween them. 

On  St.  Bartholomew's  day,  1662,  he  with  a  great 
number  of  zealous,  faithful  ministers,  was  silenced 
for  not  acceding  to  the  act  of  uniformity.  This  was 
his  greatest  affliction,  to  be  debarred  from  his  work, 
which  he  considered  as  his  honor  and  delight.  In 
the  midst  of  his  days  and  usefulness,  in  his  glory  and 
prime,  he  was  cast  aside  as  a  "  despised  broken  ves- 
sel in  which  there  was  no  pleasure."  The  next 
year  he  was  imprisoned  upon  a  false  accusation  of 
plotting  against  government ;  but  nothing  being 
proved  he  was  released,  and  returned  to  his  house 
with  thanksgivings  to  God,  and  a  fervent  prayer  that 
he  would  forgive  his  enemies.  He  was  a  second 
time  imprisoned,  for  meeting  with  a  few  friends  to 
pray  and  seek  the  mercy  of  God,  at  the  time  the 
plague  raged  with  great  fury  at  London. 

The  Five  Mile  Act  then  commenced,  by  which 
every  non-conformist  minister  was  sentenced  to  six 
months'  imprisonment,  if  they  approached  within 


104  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

five  miles  of  any  town  or  corporation  where  they  had 
formerly  preached.  Broad  Oak  was  but  four  reput- 
ed miles  from  Worthenburg,  so  he  was  compelled 
to  part  from  his  beloved  family,  and  afterwards  re- 
moved them  also  for  a  time,  till  the  fury  of  the  per- 
secution turned  away.  In  many  other  afflictions 
and  losses  he  participated  with  his  injured  brethren, 
who  were  cut  off  from  all  means  of  support,  and 
"  had  no  certain  abiding  place,"  while  their  suffer- 
ings were  the  subjects  of  merriment  in  the  luxurious 
and  abandoned  court  of  the  Second  Charles.  Yet 
he  sustained  his  troubles  with  the  temper  of  a  Chris- 
tian, sorrowing  most  of  all  that  he  could  not  be 
about  his  master's  business.  In  his  private  capacity 
he  exerted  himself  to  do  good,  in  charity  and  hospi- 
tality he  was  exemplary,  and  if  he  was  not  permitted 
to  preach,  none  could  hinder  his  "  prayers  to  the 
God  of  his  life." 

But  to  recount  his  particular  sufferings  in  the 
cause  of  the  gospel,  would  exceed  my  prescribed 
limits  ;  they  were  rendered  remarkable  by  the  resig- 
nation and  deep  feeling  with  which  he  sustained 
them,  his  prayers  for  his  enemies,  and  his  affection 
for  the  government  which  persecuted  him  and  his 
brethren.  But  after  the  accession  of  James,  a 
shadow  of  liberty  was  held  out  to  the  dissenters : 
they  beheld  it,  and  rejoiced  with  trembling.  They 
were  at  first  permitted  to  preach  in  their  own  houses, 
and  soon  after,  Mr.  Henry,  at  the  earnest  request 
of  the  people  of  Broad  Oak,  prepared  one  of  his 
own  buildings  for  a  ehurch,  and  ofHciated  there  as 
minister  until  the  time  of  his  death. 

As  if  regret  at  the  loss  of  so  much  time,  or  a 
presentiment  of  approaching  death,   stimulated  liis 


REV.    rUILIP    UENRT.  106 

exertions,  ho  was  observed  to  disregard  himself  and 
his  own  eeuse,  and  to  give  his  time  and  strength  to 
the  work  of  the  gospel.  In  the  stated  duties  of  the 
Sabbath,  lectures  on  week  days,  catechising,  visit- 
ing the  sick,  preaching  in  neighboring  places,  he 
was  active  as  in  the  days  of  youth  and  strength. 
The  national  fasts,  which  were  frequently  appointed, 
he  observed  with  great  solemnity,  and  from  nine  in 
the  morning  till  four  in  the  afternoon  never  left  the 
pulpit,  but  spent  the  whole  time  in  its  various  exer- 
cises ;  and  it  was  noticed  by  his  hearers  that  he 
grew  more  lively  and  engaged  towards  the  close  of 
the  day,  as  if  the  spirit  received  greater  supplies  of 
strength,  when  his  frame  was  weary  and  exhausted. 
All  these  laborious  performances,  in  which  he  con- 
tinued nine  years,  till  his  death,  were  without  the 
least  profit  or  compensation,  for  he  sought  no  per- 
ishable riches,  and  was  willing  to  spend  and  be 
spent  for  Christ.  At  his  own  expense  he  distributed 
the  word  of  Ufe,  and  without  doubt  has  now  obtained 
a  durable  reward. 

About  the  year  1687,  in  the  course  of  a  few 
months  he  performed  the  ceremony  of  marriage  for 
all  his  children,  much  to  his  satisfaction  and  com- 
fort He  preached  a  wedding  sermon  for  each, 
and  when  the  last  of  them  left  his  house,  writes  thus 
in  his  diary.  "  We  have  sent  hor  away,  not  as 
Laban  said  he  would  have  sent  his  daughters  away, 
with  mirth,  and  with  songs,  with  tabret,  and  with 
harp,  but  with  prayers,  and  tears,  and  sincere  good 
wishes.  And  now  we  are  alone  as  at  the  licginning ; 
f»od  enable  us  to  finish  well :  the  Lord  be  belter 
unto  us  than  many  children." 

His  letters  to  them  now  breathed  the  aflection  of 
9 


106  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

a  parent,  and  the  spirit  of  a  counsellor,  and  some  of 
them  preserved  in  an  account  of  his  life,  shew  that 
while  his  chief  desire  was  to  have  them  approved  of 
God,  he  participated  in  all  their  joys,  and  in  all  their 
afflictions  was  afflicted.  They  were  ever  on  his 
heart  in  his  prayers  and  intercessions  ;  in  his  family 
devotions  he  offered  "  offerings  and  petitions  accor- 
ding to  the  number  and  situation  of  them  all,"  and 
would  sometimes  say,  "  Can  the  children  of  so 
many  prayers  be  abandoned  ?"  Their  remarkable 
unity  and  love  gave  him  great  satisfaction,  and  when 
he  perceived  that  their  transplantation  into  separate 
families,  had  rather  increased  and  confirmed  it,  he 
gave  fervent  thanks  to  the  God  of  all  consolation, 
and  in  his  last  will  and  testament  inserted  this  peti- 
tion :  "  That  the  Lord  would  build  them  up  in  holi- 
ness, and  continue  them  still  in  brotherly  love,  as  a 
bundle  of  arrows  that  cannot  be  broken." 

His  house  was  scarcely  emptied  of  his  own  chil- 
dren, when  it  was  filled  with  those  of  his  friends, 
who  were  desirous  that  their  families  should  enjoy 
the  benefit  of  his  example  and  prayers.  Many  who 
had  completed  their  university  education  came  to 
pass  some  time  under  his  care  previous  to  their 
entrance  upon  the  ministry.  To  such  he  would 
say,  with  his  usual  humility,  "you  come  to  me  as 
JVaaman  did  to  Elisha,  expecting  that  I  should  do 
this  and  that  great  thing  for  you,  when  alas  !  I  can 
only  say  as  he  did.  Go  ivmh  in  Jordan,  Go  sliidij  the 
Scriptures." 

His  constitution  was  naturally  delicate,  yet  by 
strict  temperance,  and  regularity  in  diet  and  exer- 
cise he  retained  health  and  strength  for  incredible 
exertion.     He  was  about  the  middle  stature,  and  his 


REV.    PHILIP    HENRY.  107 

countenance  expressed  a  gravity  and  sweetness 
almost  angelic ;  yet  when  his  parishioners  earnest- 
ly desired  to  have  his  portrait  taken  that  they  might 
look  upon  it  when  he  was  no  more,  he  would  an- 
swer affectionately  "  not  so  :  the  best  picture  of  a 
minister  is  in  the  heart's  of  his  people."  lie 
had  always  accustomed  himself  to  the  medita- 
tion of  death,  that  its  actual  appearance  might  not 
overwhelm  him  with  terror.  No  presage  no  warn- 
ing, announced  its  approach :  on  the  morning  of 
his  departure,  he  arose  in  vigorous  health,  and  be- 
gan his.  family  service.  In  his  exposition  he  was 
animated  and  copious,  but  in  his  prayer  not  so 
much  so  as  usual,  for  while  in  this  duty,  he  was 
taken  with  a  sudden  weakness,  and  received  the 
sentence  of  death  in  himself  "  Ilappy  is  that  ser- 
vant, whom  his  Lord  when  he  cometh  shall  find 
so  doing." 

Immediately  afler  prayer  he  retired  to  his 
chamber,  without  mentioning  his  illness,  and  was 
found  in  great  extremity  of  pain,  which  no  remedy 
could  relieve.  His  son  was  sent  for,  and  at  his 
entrance  he  said,  "  O  Son,  you  are  welcome  to 
a  dying  father  ;  I  am  now  ready  to  be  offered  up, 
and  the  time  of  my  departure  is  at  hand."  To  his 
neighbors  he  said,  "  make  sure  work  for  your  souls, 
get  an  interest  in  Christ  while  you  are  in  health,  for 
if  I  had  that  to  do  now,  what  would  become  of  me  ? 
but  I  bless  God  I  am  satisfied."  The  agonies  of 
death  increased  upon  him,  but  he  continued  in 
prayer,  committing  his  soul  to  God.  At  ten  at 
night  his  pulse  and  his  sight  failed.  This  he  no- 
ticed, took  an  affectionate  leave  of  his  son,  and  con- 
port,  giving  her  "  a  thousand  thanks  for  her  care 


108  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

and  tenderness,"  left  a  blessing  for  his  children 
and  their  little  ones,  called  anew  upon  God  his  Sal- 
vation, and  quietly  resigned  his  soul  unto  him  at  one 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  June  24th,  in  the  65th 
year  of  his  age.  He  died  after  an  illness  of  1 6 
hours,  and  his  last  words  upon  earth  were — "  O 
death,  where  is  thy  sting  1"  It  pleased  God  that  this 
servant,  so  eminent  for  prayer,  should  obtain  his  re- 
peated request  "  never  to  outlive  his  usefulness  ;" 
it  pleased  him  also  that  in  the  act  of  prayer  he 
should  pass  from  this  mutable  state,  to  an  haven  of 
everlasting  rest. 


REV.  MATTHEW  HENRY. 


Matthew  Henrv,  the  son  of  Philip  Henry, 
was  born  at  Broad  Oak,  October.  28, 
1662.  1662.  In  his  infancy  and  childhood,  he 
was  pecuHarly  subject  to  the  evils  of  a 
delicate  constitution  ;  but  these  neither  hindered  his 
capacity,  or  inclination  for  learning.  At  three  years 
of  age,  he  was  able  to  read  properly,  and  with  some 
observation  of  what  he  read  ;  and  it  is  remarked 
by  a  companion  of  his  younger  days,  that  he  very 
early  put  away  childish  things.  His  temper  was 
gtMille  and  submissive,  and  however  astonishing  it 
may  appear  at  the  present  day,  it  is  confirmed  by 
unquestionable  authority,  that  no  angry  or  unkind 
word  ever  passed  between  his  sisters  and  himself, 
the  whole  time  of  their  continuance  in  their  lather's 
house.  He  was  observed  to  be  fond  of  preaching, 
and  so  much  aflected  by  it  as  to  retire  to  his  cham- 
ber to  weep  and  pray,  and  scarcely  to  be  prevailed 
upon  to  come  down  and  dine  on  the  liOrd's  day, 
lest  ho  should  lose  the  forcible  impression. 

In  his  tenth  year  he  was  supposed  to  be  the 
subject  of  genuine  conversion,  and  ever  after  con- 
sidered himself  as  dedicated  to  God.  Papers  of 
considerable  length  are  preserved,  written  in  his 
thirteenth  year,  entitled  "  Spiritual  and  Temporal 
Mercies  and  Ueliverances,"  in  which  with  an  im- 
9* 


110  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

derstanding  far  beyond  his  years,  he  notices  several 
interpositions  of  Providence,  in  behjJf  of  his  family 
and  himself,  and  particularly  gives  thanks  "  for  good 
instructions,  for  good  parents,  for  the  means  of 
grace,  for  prayer,  for  succor  and  help  under  temp- 
tation, for  brokenness  of  heart,  for  an  enlightening." 

In  16S0,  he  went  to  London  to  complete  his  edu- 
cation, and  was  there  noticed  for  proficiency  in 
study,  cheerfulness  and  frankness  of  disposition, 
and  a  talent  at  introducing  religious  subjects  in 
common  discourse.  During  his  absence,  he  sel- 
dom failed  to  write  twice  a  week  to  his  father, 
making  him  the  confidant  of  his  temporal  and  spirit- 
ual concerns,  and  his  letters  to  him  and  other  friends 
breathe  that  spirit  of  piety,  which  had  effectually 
preserved  him  from  the  temptations  and  vanities  of 
youth.  The  silence  and  hardships  imposed  upon 
dissenting  ministers,  prevented  many  from  educat- 
ing their  sons  to  that  profession,  and  by  the  advice 
of  influential  friends,  he  was  sent  with  several  com- 
panions to  prosecute  the  study  of  law.  He  was 
noticed  as  one  likely  to  be  eminent  in  that  profes- 
sion, as  he  possessed  a  quick  apprehension,  cor- 
rect judgment,  retentive  memory,  and  remarka- 
ble fluency  of  expression. 

But  his  desire  was  to  the  work  of  the  ministry, 
notwithstanding  the  darkness  of  the  times,  for  he 
"  esteemed  the  reproach  of  Christ  greater  riches  than 
the  treasures  of  Egypt."  He  promoted  social 
prayer  and  religious  conference  among  the  young 
practitioners,  frequently  expounded  the  Scripture  to 
them,  and  at  his  departure  bade  them  farewell  in  an 
affectionate  discourse  from  2d  Thess. — "  By  the 
coming  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  our  gathering 


REV.    MATTHEW    HENRY.  Ill 

together  to  him."  Liberty,  or  occasional  liberty  of 
preaching,  began  to  be  allowed  to  dissenters,  and  he 
immediately  commenced  preaching  as  a  candidate 
for  the  ministry.  Success  attended  his  first  attempts, 
and  a  remarkable  conversion  was  wrought  by  a 
sermon  of  his,  from  this  text,  "  With  God  is  terrible 
majesty."  On  the  ninth  of  May,  1687,  he  was 
ordained,  and  soon  after  complied  with  the  earnest 
solicitations  of  the  people  of  Chester  to  come  and 
settle  among  them.  In  a  short  time  he  was  married 
to  Miss  Catharine  Hardware,  a  person  every  way 
accomplished .  for  an  agreeable  and  suitable  com- 
panion. But  the  happiness  of  this  union  was  of 
short  duration. 

In  httle  more  than  a  year  after  their  marriage, 
God  was  pleased  to  take  her  from  the  world,  and 
from  tliis  liis  servant  to  separate  the  "  desire  of  his 
eyes  with  a  stroke."  A  contemporary  of  Mr.  Henry, 
mentions  how  much  he  was  ^fleeted  by  the  solem- 
nities of  the  ensuing  Sabbath.  The  pious  and  aged 
Mr.  Philip  Henry  came  to  comfort  his  son  on  this 
mournful  occasion,  and  preached  from  the  pathetic 
request  of  Job,  "  Show  me  wherefore  thou  con- 
tendest  with  me."  At  the  conclusion  of  the  service, 
the  bereaved  man  came  forward  to  present  in  baptism 
his  only  child,  an  infant  just  introduced  into  a  world 
of  tears.  He  uttered  again  a  confession  of  his  faith, 
renewed  his  covenant,  and  the  tears  of  the  audience 
were  muigled  with  his,  when  he  gave  tlie  motherless 
child  to  the  baptismal  font,  and  added,  "  altliough 
my  house  be  not  now  so  with  God,  yet  he  hatli 
made  with  me  an  everlasting  covenant,  ordered  in 
all  things  and  sure,  and  this  is  all  my  salvation  and 
all  my  desire,  although  he  make  me  not  to  grow ; 


112  BIOGHAPIiy    OF   PIOUS    PERSONS. 

yet  according  to  the  tenor  of  this  covenant  offer  I 
up  this  my  child  unto  the  great  God,  a  plant  out  of  a 
dry  ground,  desiring  that  it  may  be  im{>lanted  into 
Christ." 

In  his  ministerial  labors,  stated  and  occasional, 
he  was  an  example  of  diligence  and  activity.  Be- 
side his  preaching  upon  the  Sabbath,  lecture  days, 
and  fast  days,  which  were  frequent,  he  catechised 
and  explained  the  catechism  on  Saturdays,  at- 
tended two  conferences  in  the  week,  one  for 
young  persons  where  religious  questions  were  pro- 
posed and  decided,  and  another  for  conversation 
upon  experimental  piety.  He  preached  to  the  ma- 
lefactors in  the  castle  of  Chester,  for  the  space  of 
twenty  years,  with  some  appearance  of  success,  and 
his  sermons  were  so  much  esteemed  in  other  places, 
and  his  help  so  often  requested,  that  scarce  a  week 
elapsed  in  which  he  did  not  preach  several  times, 
in  the  neighboring  towns,  sometimes  at  the  distance 
of  thirty  miles.  In  his  preaching  at  Chester  he 
began  and  completed  a  regular  body  of  divinity, 
interrupting  it  only  by  occasional  sermons  adapted 
to  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  his  flock,  or  vary- 
ing state  of  public  affairs.  He  expounded  to  them 
th^  whole  of  the  Bible  in  course,  more  than  once, 
so  that  the  people  of  Chester  were  observed  lo  excel 
in  the  knowledge  and  understanding  of  the  Scrip- 
tures. In  visiting  the  sick  he  was  uncommonly 
attentive,  sometimes  devoting  a  part  of  every  day 
to  the  duty,  and  visiting  live  or  six  in  a  dav,  while 
his  diary  records  the  variations  of  their  si<  kness, 
and  situation  of  their  minds. 

But  in  no  part  of  his  office  did  he  excel  more  than 
in  prayer.  "  In  this,"  says  a  pious  writer,  who  had 
often  listened  to  him,  "  he  had  a  wonderful  faculty  ot 


Rev.  Matthew  henry.  113 

engajOfinf;  attention  and  raising  the  affections,  and 
though  copious  was  never  tedious."  His  people, 
who  placed  unbounded  confidence  in  him,  would 
frequently  solicit  his  advice  for  the  direction  of  any 
consequential  affair,  and  though  his  judgment  and 
knowledge  of  human  nature  were  unquestionable,  he 
hesitated  to  give  his  advice  unless  it  was  sanctified 
by  prayer.  Thus  when  the  people  of  his  charge 
were  under  ap{)rehension  of  danger,  about  to  take  a 
journey,  or  to  part  w  ith  a  child,  their  minister  was 
found  with  them,  to  assist,  or  to  counsel,  and  to 
recommend  their  particular  case  to  the  notice  and 
favor  of  a  prayer-hearing  God.  This  variety  of 
employment  was  attended  faithfully  and  discharged 
affectionately  without  interfering  with  family  duties, 
or  preventing  those  literary  labors  which  were 
afterwards  to  instruct  the  world.  He  was  enabled  to 
accomplish  so  much,  by  the  divine  blessing  upon  his 
constant  improvement  of  time,  and  daily  prayers  for 
divine  assistance.  He  never  presumed  to  attempt 
any  thing  without  dedicating  it  to  God  by  prayer, 
and  his  diary  gratefully  records  many  evident  an- 
swers of  |>etitions  ;  "  even  in  the  day  when  he  cried 
he  was  answered,  and  strengthened  with  strength 
in  his  soul." 

Some  time  after  the  vacancy  made  in  his  family 
by  the  death  of  his  wife,  he  was  again  married  to 
Miss  Mary  Warburton,  a  woman  of  much  piety,  and 
who  seemed  to  increase  the  measure  of  his  earthly 
happiness.  The  loss  of  three  children  called  him 
again  to  mourning  and  \vo,  and  in  the  midst  of 
those  sorrows  of  which  his  heart  was  tenderly  sus- 
ceptible, the  deep  submission  and  faith  of  a  Christian 
were  seen  to  triumph.    "  AH  is  well  that  God  doeth ; 


114  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

he  performeth  the  thing  that  is  appointed  for  me,  to- 
make  me  meet  for  his  glory."  Five  daughters  and 
a  son  were  continued  to  him,  and  in  his  method  of 
education,,  he  followed  the  excellent  example  of  his 
father,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his  work 
prosper  in  his  hands. 

Among  his  greatest  afflictions  was  the  death  of  his 
beloved  father.  In  his  diary,  the  faith.'ul  witness 
between  him  and  his  soul,  he  poured  forth  his  sorrows 
without  restraint.  "  What  is  this  that  God  hath 
done  unto  us  1  he  calleth  my  sins  to  remembrance 
this  day.  Our  morning  worship  was  as  the  ark  of 
weeping ;  among  the  neighbors  lamentation  and 
mourning  ;  my  dear  mother  cast  down,  but  not  in 
despair ;  I  myself,  full  of  confusion,  and  as  a  man 
astonished."  At  considerable  length  he  gives  vent 
to  the  feelings  of  a  wounded  and  a  humbled  soul, 
for  his  heart  was  ever  keenly  sensible  to  the  claims 
of  affection,  gratitude  and  friendship.  The  next 
year  he  followed  to  the  tomb  his  two  youngest  sisters, 
and  two  years  after,  two  of  his  brothers-in-law.  Ta 
extract  his  pathetic  expressions  of  grief,  his  inter- 
cession that  these  sorrows  might  be  subservient  to 
his  future  joy,  would  exceed  my  prescribed  limits, 
yet  could  I  wish  that  every  Christian  might  read  and 
profit  from  the  sufferings  of  one  deeply  afflicted, 
yet  "  strong  in  the  faith,  giving  glory  to  God." 

By  the  death  of  his  last  brother-in-law,  a  large 
family  of  children  were  left  orphans.  Notwith- 
standing the  great  number  of  his  burdens,  he  took 
npon  him  the  care  of  their  encumbered  estate, 
received  several  of  them  into  his  house,  and  so 
educated  and  provided  for  them,  that  they  knew  not 
the  want  of  father  or  mother^  and  felt  not  the  mise-. 


RKV.    MATTHEW    HENRY.  116 

ries  of  orphanage.  Their  estate  improved  by  his 
economy,  and  their  souls  by  his  aflectionate  instruc- 
tions, will  doubtless  like  the  alms  and  prayers  of  the 
centurion  "  come  up  for  a  memorial  before  God." 

For  twenty-four  years  he  had  never  been  absent 
from  Chester  at  their  monthly  Sacrament,  and  so 
attached  was  he  to  his  flock,  that  repeated  solicita- 
tions to  become  the  pastor  of  three  different  church- 
es in  London,  were  refused.  But  at  length  the 
earnest  entreaties  of  the  people  of  Hackney,  who 
would  accept  no  denial,  and  the  opinion  of  the 
ministers  he  most  valued,  that  it  was  his  duty  to 
accept  of  a  sphere  of  more  extensive  usefulness 
led  him  to  deliberate  upon  the  measure.  Solemn 
and  earnest  prayer  recommended  the  event  to  God, 
and  the  reluctant  consent  of  his  people  upon  the 
ground  of  his  greater  usefulness  seemed  to  remove 
the  barrier  to  its  accomplishment.  Their  parting 
was  upon  the  Lord's  day.  May  11,  1612,  and  his 
farewell  discourse  from  1st  Thess.  iv.  17,  18. 
"  We  shall  be  forever  with  the  Lord,  wherefore 
comfort  one  another  with  these  words."  He  writes 
in  review — "  a  very  sad  day  ;  O  that  by  the  sadness 
of  our  countenances  our  hearts  may  be  made  better. 
I  look  back  with  sorrow  ;  I  \ook  forward  with  fear  ; 
but  unto  thee,  O  Lord,  do  I  look  up," 

Upon  his  entrance  to  a  larger  field  of  service,  it 
became  evident  that  he  was  calculated  for  great 
exertions,  and  that  such  a  burning  and  shining  light 
ought  not  to  have  been  confined  to  narrow  limits. 
He  now  frequently  preached  four  times  on  the  sab- 
bath, and  every  day  in  the  week,  for  several  weeks 
successively,  and  sometimes  thrice  on  the  same  day. 
He  seemed  to  realize  that  the  time  of  his  departure 


116  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

was  at  hand,  and  his  motion  in  duty  and  holiness 
was  accelerated,  as  he  approached  the  centre  of  his 
rest.  The  next  year  he  went  on  a  visit  to  his  flock 
at  Chester,  having  promised  at  his  departure  to 
spend  some  Sabbaths  with  them  every  year,  and  in 
his  annual  review  of  mercies,  mentions  gratefully, 
"  the  comforts  of  that  journey,  and  happy  state  of 
his  congregation." 

The  ensuing  year  he  again  visited  them,  not  know- 
ing that  he  came  to  deposit  his  bones  among  them. 
His  last  sermon  to  them  was  from  Hebrews  ;  "  Let 
us  therefore  fear,  lest  a  promise  being  left  us  of 
entering  into  rest,  any  of  you  should  seem  to  come 
short  of  it."  On  Monday  he  left  them,  in  usual 
health,  preached  on  the  road,  was  taken  ill  at  the 
house  of  a  friend,  and  said,  "  you  have  been  used  to 
take  notice  of  the  sayings  of  dying  men,  and  this  is 
mine  ;  that  a  life  spent  in  the  service  of  God,  and 
communion  with  him,  is  the  most  comfortable  and 
pleasant  life  that  any  can  live  in  this  world."  The 
next  morning  at  five,  June  22,  1714,  his  spirit 
quietly  departed  to  Him  who  gave  it. 

The  number  of  his  printed  works  is  thirty-two, 
of  which  the  largest  are  his  Scripture  Expositions  in 
five  folio  volumes.  Each  of  these  was  commenced, 
finished  and  sent  into  the  world,  with  particular  and 
earnest  prayer  that  it  might  be  the  instrument  of 
good,  and  by  them,  he,  being  dead,  yet  speaketh. 
The  venerable  author  from  whose  works  I  have 
condensed  this  little  accountof  a  most  extraordinary 
man,  says,  "  that  the  one  half  has  not  been  told 
us,  of  his  unwearied  diligence  and  exemplary  jticly." 


SUSANNA  BICKS. 


This  child,  whose  life  and  death  might  serve  as  a 
pattern  for  experienced  Christians,  was  a  native  of 
Holland,  and  born  at  Ley  den,  January 
1650.  24th,  1650.  Her  parents  gave  her  re- 
ligious instruction,  as  soon  as  she  was 
capable  of  receiving  it,  and  delighted  to  present  her 
to  the  ministers  of  the  place,  that  she  might  be 
taught  and  catechised  by  them.  The  divine  bles- 
sing descended  upon  their  efforts,  and  almost  as 
soon  as  she  could  speak  and  act,  she  put  away  childish 
things.  She  was  attentive  to  her  studies,  strictly 
dutiful  to  her  parents,  of  a  sweet  and  humble  dispo- 
sition, fond  of  the  institutions  of  religion,  and  con- 
scientious in  secret  prayer.  Her  amiable  deport- 
ment was  not  only  proposed  as  a  pattern  of  imita- 
tion for  other  children,  but  even  older  persons  found 
themselves  both  edified  and  reproved  by  her  exem- 
plary life  and  conversation. 

In  the  summer  of  1664,  when  the  pestilence  ra- 
ged terribly  in  Holland,  this  sweet  child  was  smit- 
ten, and  declined  her  little  head,  like  some  broken 
flower — drooping,  yet  beautiful.  Bending  beneath 
the  anguish  of  that  cruel  disease  she  said  with  great 
feeling — "  If  thy  laws  were  not  my  delight  I  should 
now  perish  in  my  afthction."  Her  father,  coming 
10 


118  BIOCnAFHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

to  encourage  her,  said,  "  Be  of  good  comfort,  my 
child  ;  God  will  be  near  thee  and  us,  under  this 
heavy  trial — he  will  not  forsake,  though  he  chasten 
us."  "jOur  heavenly  Father,"  she  answered,  "  chas- 
tens us  for  our  profit,  that  we  may  be  partakers  of 
his  holiness  ;  and  though  for  the  present  it  is  not  joy- 
ous but  grievous,  it  yieldeth  afterwards  the  peacea- 
ble fruits  of  righteousness.  The  Lord  is  now  chas- 
tening me  upon  this  bed,  but  I  hope  he  will  so  bless 
it  that  it  may  yield  blessed  fruit,  according  to  his 
mercies  which  fail  not."  Then  with  her  eyes  lifted 
to  heaven,  she  prayed,  "  Be  merciful  to  me,  O  Fa- 
ther ;  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner,  according  unta 
thy  word." 

Looking  again  upon  her  sorrowful  parents,  she 
said — "  Cast  thy  burden  upon  the  Lord,  and  he 
shall  sustain  thee  ;  he  will  never  suffer  the  right- 
eous to  be  moved."  Therefore,  my  dear  mother, 
cast  all  your  care  upon  him,  who  will  cause  all  things 
to  go  well  that  concern  you."  Her  mother  answer- 
ed, "  O,  my  dear  child,  God  by  his  grace  has  given 
me  great  comfort  in  thee,  in  thy  religious  temper, 
thy  attention  in  reading  the  Scripture,  prayer  and  pi- 
ous discourse,  to  the  edification  of  us  as  well  as 
thyself.  The  Lord  hitnself,  who  gave  thee  to  us, 
make  up  this  loss,  if  it  be  his  pleasure  to  take  thee 
away."  "  Dear  mother,"  said  the  pious  child,"  though 
I  must  leave  you,  and  you  me,  yet  God  will  never 
leave  either  of  us.  It  is  said.  Can  a  woman  forget 
her  child  ?  yea,,  she  may  tbrget,  yet  will  I  not  for- 
get thee  :  behold  I  have  graven  thee  upon  the  palms 
of  my  hands.  Oh,  comfortable  words,  both  for 
mother  and  children," 

Being  fatigued  with  her  exertions  in  speaking,  she 


SUSANNA    BICK8.  119 

sank  into  a  slumber,  and  as  she  awoke  inquired 
what  day  it  was.  On  being  told  it  was  the  Sabbath, 
she  immediately  asked  her  father  if  he  had  recom- 
mended her  to  the  public  prayers  of  the  church.  He 
assured  her  he  had.  "  I  have  learned,"  said  she, 
"  that  the  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  the  righteous 
availcth  much."  She  had  a  high  esteem  for  the 
faithftd  ministers  of  Christ,  and  delighted  in  their 
conversation,  but  knowing  the  danger  that  such  a 
visit  would  expose  them  to,  she  would  not  consent 
that  they  should  come  near  her  person,  but  cast  her- 
self wholly  on  the  Lord,  and  found  great  comfort  in 
her  uncommon  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures. 

Though  so  young,  she  was  greatly  concerned  for 
the  interests  of  religion,  and  the  welfare  of  its  min- 
isters. Her  father,  coming  in  to  see  her,  one  day, 
was  much  astonished  to  find  her  weeping  violently, 
and  inquiring  what  distressed  her,  was  answered — 
"  Have  I  not  cause  to  weep,  when  I  have  just  heard 
that  our  minister  was  taken  sick  to-day  in  his  pulpit, 
and  went  home  very  ill  ?  Is  not  this  a  sad  sign  of 
God's  displeasure  to  our  country,  when  he  smiteth 
such  a  faithful  pastor  ?' — Thus  she  who  could  en- 
dure the  bitter  pains  of  her  own  sickness  without 
murmuring,  mourned  bitterly  for  the  sorrow  of  the 
church  of  God.  She  entertained  a  low  opinion  of 
herself,  and  her  own  merits,  and  would  often  exclaim, 
*'  The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  contrite  heart ;  a 
broken,  and  a  contrite  spirit,  O  God,  thou  wilt  not 
despise.  I  desire  that  brokenness  of  heart  which  is 
built  upon  and  flows  from  faith,  and  that  faith  which 
is  built  upon  Christ,  who  is  the  only  sacrifice  for 
sin." 

Soon  after,  as  she  awoke  from  sleep,  she  said — 


120  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

"  O  dear  father,  and  mother,  how  weak  do  I  feel."* 
"  My  dear,"  said  her  father,  "God  in  his  tender  mer- 
cy will  strengthen  your  weakness."  "  Yes,  Father," 
sjhe  replied,  "  that  is  my  confidence  ; — for  it  is  writ- 
ten, A  bruised  reed  will  he  not  break,  and  the  smo- 
king flax  he  will  not  quench."  She  then  discours- 
ed on  the  nature  of  faith,  and  requested  to  hear  the 
11th  of  Hebrews,  upon  which  she  remarked — "  O, 
what  a  steadfast  faith  w  as  that  of  Abraham,  which 
made  him  willing  to  offer  up  his  only  son.  Truly, 
faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for  ;  the  evi- 
dence of  things  not  seen." 

Her  parents,  seeing  her  deportment,  and  hearing 
her  wisdom  and  piety,  so  far  above  her  years,  burst 
into  tears,  and  bemoaned  their  dying  child,  with  all 
the  tenderness  of  wounded  affection.  "  O,"  said 
she,  "  why  do  you  weep  so  over  me,  since  if  the 
Lord  take  me  out  of  this  miserable  world,  it  shall  be 
well  with  me  through  all  eternity.  You  ought  to  be 
satisfied,  seeing  God  is  in  heaven,  and  doeth  what- 
soever he  pleaseth  ;  and  do  you  not  pray  every  day 
that  his  will  may  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven  ? 
Now,  father,  this  is  God's  will,  that  I  should  lie  up- 
on this  bed,  and  be  sick  of  this  disease ;  and  shall 
Vfe  not  be  content  when  our  prayers  are  answered  ? 
Is  not  extreme  sorrow  murmuring  against  God, 
without  whose  good  pleasure  nothing  comes  to  pass  ? 
Although  I  am  struck  with  this  sad  disease,  yet  be- 
cause it  is  the  will  of  God  let  that  silence  us  ;  and 
I  will,  as  long  as  I  live,  pray  that  his  will,  and  not 
mine,  be  done." 

Seeing  them  still  much  afflicted,  she  spoke  of  tlu: 
particular  providence  of  God — "  The  hairs  of  oui 
head  are  all  numbered  : — fear  not ;  ve  arc  of  more 


SUSANNA    BICK8.  121 

value  than  many  sparrows.  Adversity  and  pros- 
perity are  both  good  ;  and  though  some  things  may 
seem  evil  in  our  eyes,  the  Lord  turns  them  all  to 
the  good  of  those  who  are  his."  She  then  spoke  of 
the  plague  which  raged  with  such  violence,  as  a 
judgment  of  God,  and  not  as  the  infidels  accounted 
it,  the  natural  production  of  the  elements. 

Awaking  from    slumber    she  exclaimed — "  Oh 
this  is  the  day  for  explaining  the  first  question  of 
the  Catechism,  and  if  we  were  there  we  should 
hear  that  whether  in  life  or  in  death  a  believer  is 
Christ's.     Then  be  comforted  ;  for  whether  I  live 
or  die  I  shall  be  the  Lord's  ]     Oh  !  Why  do  you  af- 
flict yourselves  thus  1  But  what  shadl  I  say  ?     With 
weeping  I  came  into  this  world,  and  with  weeping  I 
must  go  out  again.     But  oh,  my  dear  parents,  bet- 
ter is  the  day  of  my  death  than  the  day  of  my  birth." 
She  then  desired  her  father  to  pray  with  her,  and  to 
entreat  that  she  might  have  a  quiet  and  peaceable 
passage  into  another  world.     When  he  had  conclu- 
ded, he  asked  if  she  would  again  see  the  physician. 
She  answered  "  No — for  I  am  beyond  his  help." — 
But,  my  child,  replied  he,  we  are  to  use  the  appoint- 
ed means,  and  leave  the  event  to  the  Lord."  "Yet," 
she  said,  "  let  me  lean  upon  the  heavenly  physician  : 
he  is  my  helper.   Does  he  not  say — Come  unto  me, 
all  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy   laden,  and   I  will 
give  you  rest  ?  and  hath  he  not  bid  us  call  upon  him 
in  the  day  of  trouble,  and  promised  to  deliver  us  that 
we  may  glorify  him  1     Therefore,  dear  father,  call 
upon  him  yet  again  for  me." 

Her  affection  for  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  for  her 
Catechism,  was  remarkable,  and  she  frequently  en- 
treated her  father  to  go  particularly  to  the  ministers 
10* 


122  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

who  had  catechised  and  instructed  her  in  religion, 
and  thank  them  in  the  name  of  a  dying  child,  and 
tell  them  how  comforting  their  words  were  to  her  in 
the  time  of  her  distress.  She  requested  also  (hat 
her  sincere  thanks  might  be  given  to  the  instructors 
who  had  taught  her  to  read  and  work  ;  for  she 
thought  she  could  not  express  gratitude  enough  to 
those  who  had  shown  her  kindness  and  attention. 

When  her  father  expressed  the  satisfaction  he 
had  taken  in  her  progress  in  learning,  particularly 
her  diligence  in  reading  the  Scriptures,  and  writing, 
her  constant  obedience,  and  love  to  the  ordinances 
of  religion,  she  answered  with  great  sweetness — 
"  I  desire  to  bless  God  for  his  kindness  in  granting 
me  a  godly  education,  and  giving  me  the  instruction 
of  such  parents  and  ministers,  which  I  esteem  a  far 
better  portion  than  10,000  guilders,  for  thus  I  have 
learned  to  comfort  myself  out  of  the  word  of  God  ; 
and  this  comfort  the  world  could  never  have  afford- 
ed." "  My  child,"  said  her  afTcctionate  father,  "  1 
perceive  you  are  very  weak."  "  It  is  true,  sir,"  said 
she,  "  that  I  feel  my  weakness  increasing,  and  that 
I  see  your  affliction  increasing  also,  is  a  part  of  my 
affliction.  But  be  content,  I  pray  you,  it  is  the 
Lord  that  doeth  it  ;  and  let  us  both  say  with  David 
—  '  Let  us  fall  into  his  hand  ;  for  his  mercies  are 
^•cat.' " 

■She  frequently  charged  her  parents,  not  to  grieve 
forlier  after  her  death,  and  recommended  to  them 
the  example  of  David,  who  while  his  child  was 
sick  fasted  and  wept,  but  after  its  death,  raised  him- 
self from  the  earth,  and  received  refreshment,  say- 
ing— "  he  is  now  dead.  Can  I  bring  him  back 
again  ? — I  shall  go  to  him  but  he  shall  not  return  to 


SUSANNA    BICKS.  123 

me."  So  ought  you  to  say  after  my  deulh.  Our 
child  is  well ; — for  we  know  it  shall  be  well  with 
them  that  trust  in  the  Lord.  My  dear  mother,  who 
hath  done  so  much  for  me,  you  must  promise  mo 
one  thinn;  before  1  die, — and  that  is  not  to  sorrow 
too  much  for  mc  ;  1  speak  this  to  you  particularly, 
because  I  am  afraid  of  your  great  affliction.  Con- 
sider other  losses ;  remember  those  of  Job.  For- 
get not  what  Christ  foretold  :  in  the  world  ye  shall 
have  tribulation ;  but  be  of  good  cheer,  in  me  yo 
shall  have  peace.  Must  the  apostles  suffer  so  great 
tribulation,  and  we  suller  none?  Did  not  Jesus 
(.'hrist,  my  only  life  and  Saviour,  sweat  great  drops 
of  blood,  endure  mockings  and  agony,  be  nailed  (o 
a  cross,  and  have  liis  blessed  side  pierced  with  a 
spear  ?  Did  he  not  cry  out.  My  God,  My  God,  why 
hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?  Did  he  not  purchase  for 
mc  the  garments  of  righteousness  ? — There  is  sal- 
vation in  no  other  name.  O  that  I  might  slec|) 
ijuietly  on  his  bosom,  and  that  till  then  he  would 
strengthen  me.  Oh  !  that  he  would  receive  me  as 
those  little  ones,  whom  he  took  into  his  arms,  and 
said — Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  I  lie 
here  as  a  child.  O  Lord,  1  am  thy  child,  receive 
me  into  thine  arms,  O  Lord  !  grace  and  not  jus- 
tice ;  for  if  thou  shouldst  enter  into  judgment  with 
me,  I  cannot  stand  ;  and  none  living  would  be  just 
in  thy  sight."  While  she  was  thus  comforting  her 
friends  out  of  the  Scriptures,  she  seemed  to  attain 
a  strong  conlidence  in  God.  "  Who  shall  separate 
me  from  the  love  of  Christ?  1  am  persuaded  nei- 
ther life  nor  death,  angels,  princi|)a1ities  or  powers, 
things  present,  or  things  to  come,  height,  depth, 
or  any  other  creature.     Christ  saith.  My  sheep  hear 


124  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

my  voice,  I  know  them  and  they  follow  me,  and  no 
man  shall  pluck  them  out  of  my  hands." 

In  a  triumph  of  faith,  she  exclaimed — "  Death  is 
swallowed  up  in  victory :  O  death,  where  is  thy 
sting  ? — O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?     The  sting 
of  death  is  sin,  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law : 
thanks  be  to  God  who  giveth  us  the  victory,  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."     That  she  might  better 
satisfy  the  minds  of  her  mourning  friends,  she  dis- 
coursed of  the  shortness  of  life,  and  the  necessary 
law  of  nature  appointing  all  men  once  to  die.     "  O 
what  is  the  life  of  man ;  he  is  like  the  grass  upon 
the  earth, — hke  the  flower  of  the  field,  which  the 
wind  passes  over,  and  it  is  gone,  and  its  place  shall 
know  it  no  more.     We  are  all  from  the  earth,  and 
to  the  earth  we  must  return  :  the  dust  shall  turn  to 
dust,  whence  it  first  was,  and  the  spirit  to  God  who 
gave  it."     She  urged  also  the  sin  and  sorrow  attend- 
ant upon  the  present  life,  as  an  argument  to  be  ready 
to  resign  it. — "  The  longer  we  live,  the  more  we 
sin :  but  now  the  Lord  will  free  me  from   that  sin 
and  sorrow.     What  shall  I  say  ?     My  life  shall  not 
continue  long,  for  I  feel  much  weakness.     O  Lord, 
look  upon  me  graciously ;  have  pity  upon  me.     I 
am  oppressed  : — undertake  for  me  that  I  may  stand 
fast  and  overcome." 

She  was  frequent  in  prayer,  and  in  spiritual 
ejaculations,  and  it  gave  her  great  comfort  to  re- 
member that  Christ  interceded  for  her.  "  Oh  ! 
without  Christ  I  can  do  nothing.  He  is  the  true 
vine.  Let  me  be  a  branch  in  that  vine.  What 
poor  worms  are  we  ;  and  how  lame  and  halting  do 
we  go  on  in  the  ways  of  salvation.  We  know  now 
but  in  part ;  but  when  that  which  is  perfect  shall 


SUSANNA    B1CK8.  126 

come,  imperfection  shall  he  done  away.  But  what 
are  we  ourselves?  Not  only  weakness  but  wick- 
edness :  for  we  are  by  nature  children  of  wrath. 
But  oh  !  thanks  be  to  God,  who  has  redeemed  us 
from  sin." 

She  comforted  her  parents  with  the  strong  assur- 
ance she  had  of  everlasting  happiness.  "  Christ 
hath  said,  in  my  father's  house  are  many  mansions ; 
I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you,  that  where  I  am 
ye  may  be  also.  My  dear  mother,  he  hath  prepared 
a  dwelling  for  me  ; — O  Lord,  come,  and  take  me  to 
thyself." — "  My  child,"  said  her  mother,  "  he  will 
strengthen  you  by  his  Holy  Spirit,  until  he  hath  fully 
prepared  you  for  your  appointed  place."  "  Yes, 
dear  mother  I  am  more  and  more  spent,  and  draw 
near  my  last  hour."  She  then  desired  to  be  prayed 
with,  that  she  might  have  an  easy  passage. 

She  was  much  concerned  for  the  souls  of  her  re- 
lations, and  particularly  enjoined  upon  her  father, 
that  he  should  bring  up  her  sister  as  she  had  been, 
and  instruct  her  in  her  catechism  and  in  the  things 
of  God.  "  I  formerly  wept  for  my  sister,"  said  she, 
"  thinking  she  would  die  before  me  ;  and  now  she 
weeps  for  me."  She  then  kissed  her  weeping  sis- 
ter ;  and  taking  her  little  sister,  an  infant  of  six 
months  old  into  her  arms,  she  kissed  it  with  much 
affection,  and  spoke  to  parents  and  children  with 
such  tender  solicitude  as  greatly  affected  all  who 
were  present.  Her  father  told  one  of  the  atten- 
dants to  take  the  infant  from  her,  as  he  feared  the 
hazard  of  that  licry  distemper,  and  had  alnsady  too 
much  to  bear.  "  Father,"  answere<l  tlie  sufFcrer, 
"  »lid  not  God  preserve  the  three  children  in  tht!  tiery 
furnace  ?— and  did  you  not  teach  me  that  Scripture, 


126  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

When  thou  passest  through  the  fire  thou  shall  not 
be  burnt,  neither  shall  the  flame  kindle  upon  thee?" 
The  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  gave  her  spirit 
much  comfort,  and  far  beyond  her  age  she  would 
repeat  and  apply  those  Scriptures,  which  speak  of 
the  future  glory  of  this  decaying  and  mouldering 
body.  "  It  is  sown  in  corruption,  it  is  raised  in- 
corruptible ;  it  is  sown  in  dishonor,  it  shall  be  raised 
in  glory  ;  it  is  sown  in  weakness,  it  shall  be  raised 
in  power.  Behold  !  thus  it  shall  be  with  my  mor- 
tal flesh.  Blessed  are  the  dead,  who  die  in  the 
Lord,  because  they  rest  from  their  labors.  They 
shall  enter  into  peace,  they  shall  rest  in  their  beds  : 
every  one  who  walketh  in  uprightness.  Behold, 
now,  father  I  shall  rest  and  sleep  in  that  bed-cham- 
ber. I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth  ;  and  shall 
stand  in  the  latter  day  upon  the  earth ;  and  though 
after  my  skin  worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my 
flesh  shall  I  see  God.  Dear  Father,  this  skin,  and 
perishing  flesh  which  you  see,  shall  be  raised  up 
again  ;  and  these  eyes  which  are  now  so  dim  shall 
on  that  day  behold  my  dear  Redeemer  ;  and  though 
the  worms  devour  my  flesh,  yet  with  these  eyes  shall 
I  behold  God  for  myself.  Marvel  not  at  this  ;  for 
the  hour  is  coming,  in  which  all  that  are  in  their 
graves  shall  hear  his  voice,  and  come  forth  :  and  I 
shall  rise  in  that  day,  and  behold  my  Redeemer. 
Then  shall  he  say  unto  me,  Come,  blessed  of  my 
father,  inherit  what  was  prepared  for  you  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world.  Behold,  now  I  live  :  yet 
not  I  but  Christ  Uveth  in  me ;  and  the  life  I  now 
live  in  the  flesh,  is  by  the  faith  of  the  son  Son  of 
God,  who  loved  me,  and  gave  himself  for  me.  I 
am  saved  : — yet  nOt  of  myself : — not  of  works,  lest 


SUSANNA    BICKS.  127 

any  man  should  boast  My  dear  parents,  we  must 
now  shortly  part : — my  speech  faileth  me : — pray  to 
the  Lord  for  a  quiet  close  to  my  combat." 

The  afflicted  parents  both  exclaimed,  "  Ah ! 
our  dear  child,  how  sad  is  it  that  we  must  part." — 
"  I  go,"  said  the  dying  one,  "  to  heaven,  where  wo 
shall  find  each  other  again.  I  go  to  Jesus  Christ. 
I  go  to  my  dear  brother,  who  did  so  much  cry  and 
call  upon  God  to  the  last  moment  of  his  breath.  I 
go  to  my  little  sister  who  was  but  three  years  old, 
when  she  died,  who  when  we  asked  her  if  she 
should  die,  answered,  yes,  if  it  be  the  Lord's  will  : — 
or  I  will  stay  with  my  mother,  if  it  be  the  Lord's 
will  : — but  yet,  I  know  that  I  shall  die,  and  go  to 
heaven,  and  to  God.  O  see  how  so  small  a  babe 
could  behave  itself  so  submissively  to  the  will  of 
God,  as  if  it  had  no  will  of  its  own.  Therefore, 
dear  father  and  mother,  give  the  Lord  thanks  for 
this  his  free  and  rich  grace,  an(>  then  I  shall  the 
more  gladly  be  gone.  Be  gracious,  then,  O  Lord, 
unto  me  also  :  be  gracious  unto  me,  wash  me  thor- 
oughly from  mine  unrighteousness  and  cleanse  me 
from  my  sin." 

After  this  prayer  her  spirit  was  refreshed  with  a 
sense  of  tlie  pardon  of  her  sin,  so  that  she  cried  out 
with  fervency, — :"  Behold,  God  hath  washed  away 
my  sins,  and  oh  !  how  I  long  to  die.  The  apostle 
said,  In  this  body  we  earnestly  sigh  and  groan,  long- 
ing for  our  house  which  is  in  heaven,  that  we  may 
be  clothed  therewith.  Now  I  also  lie  here  sighing 
and  longing  for  that  dwelling  which  is  above.  In 
the  last  sermon  which  I  shall  ever  hear,  I  heard  this, 
which  is  a  source  of  great  comfort  to  me."  She 
then  repeated  several  Scriptures  which  were  quoted 


128  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

in  that  sermon,  proving  with  what  attention  she 
had  listened,  and  how  perfect  her  powers  of  recol- 
lection were  to  the  last.  She  then  desired  that 
prayers  might  be  offered,  that  her  sins  might  be  for- 
given, that  she  might  have  the  assurance  of  faith, 
and  continuation  of  divine  strength  and  comfort  as 
her  necessities  might  require. 

After  being  for  some  time  absorbed  in  mental  de- 
votion, she  entreated  her  parents  to  forgive  the  er- 
rors of  her  childhood,  and  to  forget  the  occasions 
wherein  she  had  grieved,  and  given  them  trouble. 
She  thendistributed  her  books,  particularly  request- 
ing her  brother  never  to  part  with  the  "  Lectures 
on  the  Catechism,"  but  to  study  them  in  remem- 
brance of  her.  Feeling  a  severe  pain  in  her  breast, 
she  said  she  was  assured  that  her  last  hour  drew 
nigh  ;  and  her  parents  suppressed  their  grief  to  tell 
her  that  God  would  undoubtedly  strengthen  her  in 
the  hour  of  her  extremity. 

"  He  is  my  Shepherd,  she  replied.  Though  I 
walk  through  the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
shall  I  fear,  when  he  comforteth  me  ?  The  suffer- 
ings of  this  present  life,  arc  not  worthy  to  be  com- 
pared to  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed.  Ye  are 
bought  with  a  price  :  ye  are  washed,  ye  are  sancti- 
fied, in  the  name  of  our  Lord  Jesus,  and  by  the 
spirit  of  our  God.  My  end  approacheth.  Now 
shall  I  put  on  white  raiment,  and  be  clothed  before 
the  Lamb  with  his  spotless  righteousness.  Angels 
are  ready  to  carry  me  before  the  throne  of  God." 

This  she  spoke  with  a  dying  voice,   but  full  of 
the  animation  of  hope  and  faith.     After   a  j)ause, 
she  once   more   addressed   her    weeping   parents. 
"  Wc  know,  that  if  this  eartlily  house,  this  tabcrna- 


SUSANNA    BICKS.  129 

cle,  be  dissolved,  we  have  one  built  of  God,  eternal 
in  the  heavens.  For  this,  we  sigh  earnestly.  Fa- 
ther, this  tabernacle  of  my  body  is  broken  down ; 
but  the  soul  which  partcth  from  it,  shall  be  taken 
to  the  heavenly  paradise,  the  New  Jerusalem. 
There  shall  I  dwell,  and  go  no  more  out,  but  sing 
Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  the  God  of 
Sabaoth."  Her  last  words  were,  "  Lord  God, 
into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit.  O  Lord,  be 
gracious,  be  merciful  to  me,  a  poor  sinner." 

Having  uttered  these  words,  she  fell  asleep,  on 
September  1st,  1664,  between  seven  and  eight  in 
in  the  evening,  in  the  fourteenth  year  of  her  age. 
The  account  of  this  extraordinary  child  was  first 
printed  in  Holland,  and  afterwards  translated  from 
the  original  Dutch,  by  a  pious  man,  who  was  desi- 
rous that  the  benefit  of  such  an  example  might  be 
more  widely  extended.  Let  it  animate  parents  to 
|)ersevere  in  the  duties  of  religious  instruction,  and 
children  to  be  more  fervent  in  prayer  that  they  may 
be  enabled  to  live  the  life,  and  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous. 


11 


FJENEIiON,    ARCHBISHOP   OF 
CAMBRAY. 


Francis  de  Salignac,  de  la  Motte  Fenelon^ 
was  born  in  the  castle  of  Fenelon,  in  the  department 

of  Dordogne,  in  France.      At  the  age 
1651.    of  twelve  years  he  left  the  instructions  ©r 

his  father  for  the  university  of  Cahors,  and 
afterwards  went  to  complete  his  studies  at  Paris,, 
under  the  care  of  his  uncle,  the  Marquis  of  Fenelon.- 
He  soon  began  to  be  known  and  celebrated  at 
Paris,  and  at  the  early  age  of  nineteen,  preached 
there  with  the  most  unbounded  applause.  But  the 
Marquis,  who  was  possessed  at  once  of  piety,  and  a. 
knowledge  of  the  human  mind,  fearing  that  the  com- 
mendations of  the  world  might  inflate  his  young 
heart  with  vanity,  or  seduce  it  from  the  simplicity  of 
the  gospel,  persuaded  him  to  imitate  for  several 
years  the  silence  of  Jesus  Christ, 

But  his  virtues  and  talents  could  not  be  entirely 
hidden,  and  his  fame  began  to  be  sounded  at  court, 
so  that  king  Louis  XIV.  appointed  him  to  conduct 
a  mission  for  the  conversion  of  the  Protestants,  on 
the  coast  of  Saintonge.  He  appointed  a  strong 
military  force  to  assist  his  exertions,  but  the  young 
Abb^  Fenelon,  abhorring  the  sanguinary  measures 
often  resorted  to  by  their  church,  refused  to  be  con- 


ARCHBISHOP    FENBLON.  131 

cemed  in  the  mission,  if  the  troops  were  ordered  to 
accompany  him.  His  Hrmness  defeated  the  ill- 
appointed  design,  and  while  the  objects  of  his  mis- 
sion received  that  mild  and  gentle  treatment  which 
coincides  with  the  spirit  of  the  gospel,  the  unfortunate 
Protestants  in  the  other  parts  of  France,  were  given 
lip  to  the  dreadful  effects  of  the  most  inhuman  per- 
secution. At  his  return  from  his  mission  he  ab- 
sented himself  for  two  years  from  the  splendor  of  a 
dissipated  court ;  preferring  to  cultivate  in  retire- 
ment the  powers  of  his  mind,  and  the  principles  of 
piety. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  he  was  appointed  Su- 
perior to  the  new  female  converts  in  Paris.  A  few 
years  after,  he  published  an  excellent  treatise  on  fe- 
male education,  which  was  so  highly  esteemed,  that 
the  king  appointed  him  preceptor  to  his  grandchil- 
dren, the  young  Dukes  of  Burgundy  and  Anjou. 
In  1695,  his  merits  were  rewarded  with  the  Abbey 
of  St.  Valery,  and  shortly  after  with  the  Archbish- 
opric of  Cambray.  He  then  relinquished  of  his 
own  accord  the  Abbey  of  St.  Valery,  thinking  it 
wrong  to  hold  a  plurality  of  benefices.  Though 
blameless  in  his  life  and  conversation,  he  was  not 
exempt  from  the  machinations  of  enmity  and  re- 
venge, and  was  forced  by  them  to  leave  the  court 
forever.  It  was  supposed  that  his  firmness  in  per- 
suading the  king  not  to  proclaim  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  Queen  of  France,  was  the  real  cause  of  his 
banishment ;  though  the  ostensible  reason  was  his 
pubUcation  of  a  book,  entitled  "  An  Explication 
of  the  maxims  of  the  Saints,"  which  the  Pope  con- 
demned as  heretical. 

Retiring  from  the  storms  of  public  life,  to  the 


132  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

tranquil  shades  of  his  own  diocese,  he  discharged 
punctually  all  the  holy  duties  of  his  ofiico,  and  led 
a  pious  and  exemplary  life.  Some  of  the  fruits  of 
his  leisure,  were  the  volume  entitled  "  Adventures 
of  Telemachus,"  written  in  a  fine  style,  containing 
maxims  which  advance  the  happiness  of  mankind, 
and  a  most  sublime  moral.  His  enemies  in  the 
court  of  Louis,  prevailed  upon  that  monarch  to 
stop  the  printing  of  it  at  Paris,  but  its  mtrinsic  merit 
established  its  fame  throughout  Europe.  His  rest- 
less foes  endeavored  with  unceasing  mahce  to 
deprive  him  of  the  Archbishopric  of  Cambray, 
but  he  still  retained  that  office,  and  continued  to 
delight  all  who  were  within  the  sphere  of  his  influ- 
ence, by  gentle  piety,  and  ineffable  sweetness  of 
manners. 

His  enemies,  defeated  in  this  attempt,  placed  in 
his  neighborhood  an  ecclesiastic  of  high  birth,  with 
the  title  of  his  Grand  Vicar,  to  be  a  spy  upon  all 
his  actions.  But  having  long  observed  the  pure 
and  spotless  heart  which  he  had  been  employed  to 
calumniate,  struck  with  remorse,  he  came  and 
threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  Fcnclon,  confessed  the 
unworthy  part  which  he  had  been  engaged  to  per- 
form, implored  his  forgiveness,  and  sought  to  cover 
his  shame  in  retirement.  Meekly  sustained  was 
this  sweet  triumph  of  rectitude  of  heart,  and  sin- 
cere piety.  So  universal  was  the  fame  of  his  good- 
ness and  virtue,  that  in  the  last  year  of  the  war  with 
Louis  XIV.,  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  gave  orders 
to  his  troops  "  not  to  plunder  the  estate  of  the  ami- 
able Fenelon."  Thus  peculiarly  favored,  he  direct- 
ed his  benevolent  attentions  to  those  who  suflered. 
He  iBSsemblcd  m  lus  palace  the  unfortunate  people, 


ARCHBISHOP    FENELON.  133 

whom  the  horrors  of  war  had  driven  from  their 
dwellings,  fed  them  at  his  own  table,  and  a.^'Sisted 
them  by  many  acts  of  kindness. 

One  day  as  he  was  waiting  upon  a'numerons  com- 
pany, he  observed  one  of  the  peasants  did  not  eat, 
and  tenderly  inquired  the  reason.  "  Alas !  my  lord," 
said  the  poor  man,  "  when  I  fled  from  my  cottage, 
I  had  not  time  to  bring  away  a  cow  that  nourished  my 
family ;  the  enemy  will  carry  her  off",  and  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  find  so  good  a  one."  Rising  from  his  table, 
the  benevolent  Archbishop  took  one  of  his  domes- 
tics, left  the  city  immediately,  found  the  animal,  and 
brought  her  himself  to  the  peasant.  In  no  moment 
of  honor,  applause,  or  acquisition  of  fortune,  did  he 
realize  such  simple  and  real  delight,  as  when,  driving 
before  him  the  cow  of  the  poor  peasant,  he  thought 
of  the  hearts  that  this  humble  and  fearless  act  had 
made  glad.  He  would  often  walk  to  the  cottages 
of  the  poor  in  the  environs  of  Cambray,  seat  himself 
among  them,  and  listen  to  their  tales  of  sorrow,  that 
he  might  better  know  how  to  sooth,  comfort  and 
reUevc  them.  "  There,"  they  would  say,  after  his 
death,  "  There  is  the  wooden  chair,  in  which  our 
good  Archbishop  used  to  sit  among  us.  Ah  !  we 
shall  never  see  him  more." — They  spoke  his  name 
with  the  deepest  reverence  and  aflection,  and  thought 
of  him,  as  if  he  had  been  an  angel. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  17th  century,  the  young 
prince  spent  some  time  with  him  at  his  palace  in 
Cambray.  In  the  course  of  his  instructions  he 
earnestly  dissuaded  him  from  using  the  arm  of  force 
and  persecution,  in  matters  of  religion,  as  was  the 
too  prevalent  custom  of  those  bigoted  ages. — "  No 
human  power,"  said  he,  "  can  have  any  authority 
11* 


134  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

over  the  freedom  of  the  mind.  Violence  may  m<ikc 
hypocrites,  but  it  can  never  persuade  the  heart ; 
and  to  bring  such  proselytes  to  religion  is  not  to 
protect,  but  debase  it." — Thus  lived  the  amiable 
Fenelon,  in  the  practice  of  every  virtue  which  true 
piety  inculcates.  His  death  was  hastened  by 
casualty.  As  he  was  taking  the  air  in  a  retired 
part  of  his  estate,  the  horses  took  a  sudden  fright, 
and  the  carriage  was  overturned.  A  contusion 
which  he  then  received,  occasioned  an  inflammation 
in  the  breast,  which  terminated  his  life,  on  the  eighth 
of  January,  1715,  at  the  age  of  64. 

He  was  a  Christain  who  highly  prized,  and  sta- 
tedly availed  himself  of  the  privilege  of  prayer. 
"  Such  is  our  dependance  upon  God,"  he  writes, 
"  that  we  are  obliged  to  seek  from  him  the  very 
power  of  right  action.  This  necessity  of  having 
recourse  to  him  in  all  our  wants,  instead  of  being 
grievous  should  be  our  greatest  consolation.  What 
a  happiness  that  we  arc  allowed  to  speak  to  him 
with  confidence,  to  open  our  hearts  and  hold  familiar 
conversation  with  him  by  prayer.  lie  himself  in- 
vites us  to  it ;  and  we  may  judge  how  ready  he  is  to 
give  us  those  good  things  which  he  himself  solicits 
us  to  ask  of  him.  Let  us  pray  then  with  faith,  and 
not  lose  the  fruit  of  our  prayers,  by  a  wavering 
uncertainty,  which  the  apostle  James  testifies  hin- 
ders their  success.  He  advises  us  to  pray  when  we 
are  in  trouble,  because  thereby  we  shall  find  conso- 
lation ;  yet  are  we  so  wretched  that  this  heavenly 
employment  is  often  a  burden  more  than  a  comfort 
to  us.  The  lukewarmncss  of  our  prayers  is  the 
source  of  all  our  other  infidelities.  Our  Saviour 
said — '  usk,  and  ye  shall   iind  ; — seek,  and  ye  shall 


ARCHBISHOP    FENELON.  135 

obtain; — knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  to  you.' 
It'  riches  were  to  be  had  for  asking,  with  what  ear- 
nestness, assiduity  and  perseverance,  would  men  ask 
for  them.  If  treasures  were  to  be  found  with 
looking  for  them,  what  place,  what  corner  would 
escape  search?  If  by  knocking  they  could  gain 
admittance  into  the  king's  counsel,  or  the  highest 
places  of  preferment,  what  a  knocking  should  wo 
hear  ]  Divine  grace .  is  the  only  true  good,  yet  the 
only  thing  they  neglect ;  the  only  thing  which  they 
have  not  patience  to  wait  for.  The  promises  of 
Christ  are  infallibly  certain,  and  it  is  our  own  fault  if 
we  do  not  find  their  blessed  effect." 

To  these  sentiments  of  the  admirable  Fenelon, 
1  add  a  prayer  of  his,  expressive  of  that  profound 
humility  which  ever  characterized  his  piety. — "  O 
Lord !  I  know  not  what  I  should  ask  of  thee. 
Thou  only  knowest  what  I  want :  and  thou  lovest 
me  better  than  I  can  love  myself.  O  Lord,  give  to 
one  who  desires  to  be  thy  child,  what  .is  proper, 
whatsoever  it  may  be.  I  dare  not  ask  either  com- 
forts or  crosses.  I  only  present  myself  before  thee  : 
I  open  my  heart  unto  thee.  Behold  those  wants 
which  I  am  ignorant  of:  but  do  thou  behold  and  do 
according  to  thy  mercy.  Smite  or  heal :  depress, 
or  raise  me  up  : — I  adore  all  thy  purposes  without 
knowing  them  :  I  am  silent :  I  offei-  myself  in. sacri- 
fice. I  abandon  myself  to  thee  ;  having  no  greater 
desire  than  to  accomplish  thy  will.  Teach  me  to 
pray.  Pray  thou  thyself  in  me." — Thus  humble, 
thus  childlike  was  this  eminent  saint  in  the  presence 
of  his  God  ; — emptying  himself  of  all  that  the 
world  might  call  talents  and  goodness,  and  clothing 
his  soul  with  the  simplicity  of  Christ. 


136  BIOGRAPHY    OP    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

Another  prayer  of  his  is  inserted  at  the  close  of 
one  of  his  works,  entitled  "  A  Demonstration  of 
the  Existence,  Wisdom,  and  Omnipotence  of  God,'* 
drawn  from  a  survey  of  nature,  particularly  of  man. 
With  the  eye  of  a  philosopher,  and  a  Christian,  he 
explores  his  subject,  and  clothes  his  remarks  in  the 
robe  of  unvarnished  elegance,  while  the  great  works 
of  the  Deity  elevated  his  soul  to  sublime  adoration. 
To  use  the  words  of  a  fine  writer — "  this  supplica- 
tion is  the  voice  of  an  happy  and  untroubled  spirit, 
or  like  the  worship  of  an  angel  concerned  for  those 
who  had  fallen,  though  himself  still  in  the  state  of 
glory  and  innocence." 

"  Oh  !  my  God,  if  the  greater  part  of  mankind 
do  not  discover  thee  in  that  glorious  show  of  nature 
which  thou  has  placed  before  our  eyes,  it  is  not  be- 
cause thou  art  far  from  any  one  of  us.  Thou  art 
present  to  us  more  than  any  object  that  we  touch 
with  our  hands ;  but  our  senses,  and  the  passions 
they  produce  in  us,  turn  our  attention  from  thee. 
Thy  light  shineth  in  the  midst  of  darkness,  but  the 
darkness  comprehendeth  it  not.  Thou,  O  Lord, 
dost  every  way  display  thyself.  Thou  shinest  in 
all  thy  works,  but  art  not  regarded  by  heedless,  un- 
thinking man.  The  whole  creation  speaks  loudly 
of  thee,  and  echoes  with  the  repetition  of  thine  ho- 
ly name.  But  such  is  our  insensibility,  that  we  are 
deaf  to  the  great  and  universal  voice  of  nature. 
Thou  art  every  where  about  us,  and  within  us  ; — 
but  we  wander  from  ourselves,  become  strangers  to 
our  own  souls,  and  do  not  apprehend  thy  presence. 
O  Thou,  who  art  the  eternal  fotmtain  of  light  and 
beauty,  who  art  the  ancient  of  days,  without  begin- 
ning and  without  end  : — O  Thou,  who  art  the   life 


ARCHBISHOP    FENELON.  137 

of  all  that  truly  live,  those  can  never  fail  to  find 
thee  who  seek  for  thee  within  {hcmsclves.  But 
alas  ! — the  very  gifts  which  thou  bestowest  upon 
us,  do  so  employ  our  thoughts,  that  thoy  hiiulor  us 
from  perceiving  the  hand  that  conveys  them  to  us. 
^Ve  live  by  Thee,  and  yet  live  without  thinking  on 
thee  : — yet,  O  Lord,  what  is  life  in  the  ignorance  of 
thee  ?  A  dead,  inactive  piece  of  matter,  a  flower 
that  withers,  a  river  that  glides  away,  a  palace  that 
hastens  to  its  ruin,  a  picture  made  up  of  fading 
colors,  or  a  mass  of  shining  ore,  strike  our  imagina- 
tions, and  make  us  sensible  of  their  existence.  We 
regard  them  as  objects  capable  of  giving  us  pleas- 
ure, not  considering  that  thou  conveyest  through 
them  all  the  pleasure  which  we  imagine  they  give 
us.  Such  vain,  empty  objects  that  are  only  the 
shadows  of  being,  are  proportioned  to  our  low  and 
grovelling  thoughts.  That  beauty  which  thou  hast 
poured  out  on  the  creation,  is  as  a  veil  which  hides 
thee  from  our  eyes.  As  thou  art  a  being  too  pure 
and  exalted  to  pass  through  our  senses,  thou  art  not 
regarded  by  men  who  have  debased  their  nature, 
and  made  themselves  like  the  beasts  that  perish. 
So  infatuated  are  they,  that  notwithstanding  they 
know  what  is  wisdom  and  virtue,  which  have  neither 
sound,  nor  color,  nor  smell,  nor  taste,  nor  figure, 
nor  any  other  sensible  quality,  they  can  doubt  of  thy 
existence  because  thou  art  not  apprehended  by  the 
grosser  organs  of  sense.  Wretches  that  we  are  ! 
we  consider  shadows  as  realities,  and  truth  as  a 
phantom.  That  which  is  nothing  is  all  to  us  : — that 
which  is  all  appears  to  us  as  nothing.  What  do  wc 
see  in  all  nature  but  thee,  O  my  God  !  Thou — and 
only  thou,  appearest  in  every  thing.     When  I  con- 


138  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

aider  thee,  O  my  God,  I  am  swallowed  up  and  lost 
in  contemplation  of  thee.  Every  thing,  besides 
thee,  even  my  own  existence,  vanishes  and  disap- 
pears in  the  contemplation  of  thee.  I  am  lost  to 
myself,  and  fall  into  nothing  when  I  think  on  thee. 
The  man  who  does  not  see  thee  has  beheld  noth- 
ing :  he  who  does  not  taste  thee  has  a  relish  for 
nothing.  His  being  is  vain  :  his  life  but  a  dream. 
Set  up  thyself,  O  Lord  : — set  up  thyself  that  we 
may  behold  thee.  As  wax  consumes  before  the 
fire,  and  as  the  smoke  is  driven  away,  so  let  thine 
enemies  vanish  out  of  thy  presence.  How  unhap- 
py is  that  soul,  who  without  the  sense  of  thee,  has 
no  God,  no  hope,  no  comfort  to  support  him.  But 
how  happy  the  man  that  searches,  sighs,  and  thirsts 
after  thee.  Yet  he  only  is  fully  happy  on  whom 
thou  liflest  the  light  of  thy  countenance,  whose  tears 
thou  hast  wiped  away,  and  who  in  thy  loving  kind- 
ness enjoys  the  completion  of  all  his  desires.  How 
long,  how  long,  O  Lord,  shall  I  wait  for  that  day, 
when  I  shall  possess  in  thy  presence,  fulness  of  joy 
and  pleasures  forevermore  ?  O  my  God,  in  this 
pleasing  hope  my  soul  rejoices  and  cries  out,  who  is 
like  unto  thee  ?  My  heart  melts  away,  and  my 
spirit  faints  within  me,  when  I  look  up  to  thee  who 
art  the  God  of  my  life,  and  my  portion  to  all  eter- 
nity." 


RBV.  CHRISTOPHER  LOVE. 


Christopher  Love  was  an  eminently  faithful 

minister  of  Laurence-jury,  London.     In  the  time 

of  the  usurper  Cromwell,  he  was  accused 

1651.  of  an  attachment  to  monarchy,  and  un- 
der a  false  pretext  of  plotting  against 
government,  sentenced  to  the  block.  From  his 
dying  speech  to  the  people,  the  following  is  selected. 

"  Although  there  is  but  a  little  between  me  and 
death,  yet  this  bears  up  my  heart, — there  is  but 
little  between  me  and-  heaven.  It  comforted  the 
martyr  Taylor,  when  he  was  going  to  execution, 
that  there  were  but  two  stiles  between  him  and  his 
father's  house  ; — there  are  but  two  steps  between 
me  and  glory.  It  is  but  lying  down  upon  that  block, 
and  I  shall  ascend  a  throne.  I  am  this  day  sailing 
to  the  ocean  of  Eternity ; — through  a  rough  pas- 
sage to  an  haven  of  rest ; — through  a  red  sea  to  the 
promised  land.  As  God  said  to  Moses, '  Go  up  to 
Mount  Nebo,  and  die  there,'  methinks  I  hear  him 
say  to  me, — Go  up  to  Tower-hill,  and  die  there. 
Isaac  said  to  himself,  that  he  was  old,  and  knew 
not  the  day  of  his  death ;  yet,  I  am  young,  and 
know  the  day  of  my  death,  the  kind  of  my  death, 
and  the  place  of  my  death. 

"  Like  John  the  Baptist,  and  Paul  the  Apostle,  I 
am  to  be  beheaded.  I  read  also  in  the  Scriptures 
that  "  the  saints  were  beheaded  for  the  word  of  God, 
and  for  the  testimony  of  Jesus.     But  herein  is  the 


140  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

disadvantage  which  I  lie  under,  in  the  thoughts  of 
many,  who  judge,  that  I  suffer  not  for  the  word  of 
God,  or  for  conscience'  sake,  but  for  meddling  with 
state  matters,  I  briefly  answer,  that  this  is  an  old 
subterfuge  of  Satan,  to  impute  the  cause  of  the 
sufferings  of  God's  people  to  machinations  against 
the  state,  when  in  truth  they  are  persecuted  for 
their  conscience  and  their  religion.  The  rulers  of 
Israel  would  have  put  Jeremiah  to  death  on  a  civil 
account,  though  it  was  only  the  boldness  of  his 
prophecy,  against  which  they  were  angiy.  They 
pretended  that  he  must  die  because  he  fell  away  to 
the  Chaldeans,  and  would  have  brought  in  foreign 
forces  to  invade  them.  The  same  thing  is  laid  to 
my  charge,  of  which  I  am  as  innocent  as  Jeremiah 
was.  So  Paul,  though  he  did  but  preach  Jesus 
Christ,  yet  his  enemies  sought  to  put  him  to  death 
as  a  mover  of  sedition. 

"  Upon  a  civil  account,  it  is  pretended,  my  life  is 
taken  away ;  but  it  is  because  I  pursue  my  cove- 
nant, and  will  not  prostitute  my  principles  and  con- 
science to  the  ambition  and  lust  of  men.  I  had 
rather  die  a  covenant  keeper,  than  live  a  covenant 
breaker.  Beloved,  I  am  this  day  making  a  double 
exchange  ;  I  am  changing  a  pulpit  for  a  scaffold, 
and  a  scaffold  for  a  throne.  And  I  might  add  a 
third, — T  am  changing  the  presence  of  this  great 
multitude  on  Tower  Hill,  for  an  innumerable  com- 
pany of  saints  and  martyrs  on  the  holy  hill  of  Zion  : 
I  am  changing  this  guard  of  soldiers,  for  a  guard  of 
angels,  who  will  receive  and  conduct  me  to  Abra- 
ham's bosom.  This  scaffold  is  the  best  pulpit  that 
1  ever  preached  in  ;  God,  tlu-ough  his  grace,  made 
me  in  my  church   pulpit  an  instrument   to  bring 


UEV.    CHRISTOPHER    LOVE.  141 

others  to  heaven  ;  but  in  this  pulpit  he  will  bring  me 
to  heaven.  Though  my  blood  be  not  that  of  no- 
bles, it  is  Christian  blood — innocent  blood. 

I  magnify  the  riches  of  God's  grace  and  mercy 
towards  me,  who,  bom  in  Wales,  an  obscure  coun- 
try, and  of  obscure  parents,  should  thus  be  singled 
out  for  such  honorable  sufferings.  For  the  first 
fourteen  years  of  my  life,  I  never  heard  a  sermon  ; 
yet  in  my  fifteenth  year  it  pleased  God  to  convert 
me.  Blessed  be  God,  who  not  only  made  me  a 
Christian,  but  also  a  minister,  judging  me  faithful, 
and  putting  me  into  the  ministry,  which  is  my  glory. 

I  had  rather  be  a  preacher  in  a  pulpit,  than  a 
prince  upon  a  throne  :  I  had  rather  be  an  instrument 
to  bring  souls  to  heaven,  than  that  all  nations  should 
pay  tribute  to  me. 

Formerly,  I  have  been  under  a  spirit  of  bondage, 
and  sometimes  have  had  more  fear  of  the  drawing 
of  a  tooth,  than  now  of  the  cutting  off  my  head. 
Fear  was  often  upon  me  when  death  was  not  near ; 
now  death  is  near  me,  and  my  fear  hath  vanished. 
In  this  I  am  comforted  ; — though  men  kill  me,  they 
cannot  damn  me ;  though  they  thrust  me  out  of  the 
world,  they  cannot  shut  me  out  of  heaven.  When 
I  have  shed  my  blood,  I  expect  the  full  declaration 
of  the  remission  of  sins  through  the  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ.  I  am  going  to  my  long  home,  and  ye  to 
your  short  homes ;  but  before  ye  reach  yours,  I 
sh.iU  bo  at  mine." 

After  this  ho  prayed  earnestly,  "  that  as  he  was 
called  to  the  work  he  had  never  done,  he  might  have 
(he  strength  that  he  never  had,"  and  then  calrnly 
.suffered  the  stroke  of  the  executioner,  on  the  twenty- 
second  of  August,  in  the  year  16.51. 
12 


JACOB  BICKS. 


This  interesting  and  religious  child  was  the  bro- 
ther of  Susanna  Bicks,  a  remarkable  instance  of 

e8U"ly  piety,  and  born  at  Leyden,  HoUemd, 
1657.     in  the  year  1657.     His  parents  were  very 

strict  and  conscientious  in  his  education, 
and  God  was  pleased  to  sanctify  their  prayers  and 
instructions  to  his  thorough  conversion.  In  the 
time  of  the  fatal  plague,  he  was  seized  with  the  in- 
fection four  weeks  before  his  sister,  and  it  so  affect- 
ed his  head,  that  he  was  very  drowsy  and  lethargic. 
In  his  waking  intervals,  he  was  almost  constantly 
engaged  in  prayer,  and  though  but  a  little  child,  found 
it  a  great  comfort  in  his  distress.  Once  after  his  pa- 
rents had  been  praying  by  him,  they  asked  him  if  he 
would  again  see  the  physician.  He  answered, 
"  No.  I  will  have  him  no  more.  The  Lord  will 
help  me,  for  I  know  he  will  take  me  to  himself." 
"  My  dear  child,"  said  his  father,  "  that  grieves  my 
heart."  "  Father,"  said  the  patient  suft'erer,  "  let 
us  pray ;  and  the  Lord  will  be  near  for  my  helper." 
After  prayer  he  exclaimed — "  Come  now,  dear  fa- 
ther and  mother,  and  kiss  me  ;  I  know  that  I  shall 
die.  Farewell,  my  dear  parents, — farewell  dear 
sister, — farewell  all.  Now  shall  I  go  to  heaven, 
and  to  God,  and  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  holy  an- 


JACOB    BICKS.  143 

gels.  Remember  you  not  what  is  said  by  Jeremi- 
ah ?  Blessed  is  he  who  trusteth  in  the  Lord.  Now 
I  trust  in  him,  and  he  will  bless  me.  '  Little  chil- 
dren, love  not  the  world  :  for  it  passeth  away.' 
Away  then  with  all  the  pleasant  things  of  the  world  ! 
away  with  my  toys — away  with  my  books  ; — for  in 
heaven  I  shall  know  sufficiently  of  the  true  wisdom 
without  them."  "  God,"  said  his  father,  "  will  be 
near  thee,  and  uphold  thee."  "  Yes,  father,"  said 
the  child,  "  it  is  written  God  resisteth  the  proud,  but 
giveth  grace  unto  the  humble.  I  shall  humble  my- 
self under  his  mighty  hand,  and  he  will  lift  me  up." 
"  O  my  dear  child,"  replied  the  afflicted  father, 
"  hast  thou  so  strong  a  faith  ?"  "  Yes,"  said  the 
dying  one,  "  God  hath  given  me  so  strong  a  faith 
upon  Jesus  Christ,  that  Uie  devil  himself  shall  flee 
from  me.  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  hath  ever- 
lasting life,  and  shall  overcome  the  wicked  one. 
Now  I  believe  in  Jesus  Christ  my  Redeemer,  and 
he  will  never  leave  or  forsake  me,  but  will  give  unto 
me  eternal  life,  and  let  me  sing,  Holy — holy — holy 
is  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth." 

Then  praying  earnestly — "  Lord  be  merciful  to 
me  a  poor  sinner  " — he  quietly  and  sweetly  breath- 
ed out  his  soul,  when  he  was  only  seven  years  old, 
in  the  month  of  August,  1664. 


THE  MARQ,UTS  OF  ARGYL.E. 


The  celebrated  Scotch  Marquis  of  Argyle,  to 
many  popular  accomplishments  added  a  zealous 

piety  ;  and  being  a  firm  friend  to  the 
1661.       Covenanted  Reformation,  was  put  to 

death  for  it,  as  a  crime,  in  the  spring  of 
1661,  in  the  second  year  of  the  reign  of  the  Second 
Charles.  When  his  sentence  of  death  passed  the 
parliament,  he  answered,  "  I  had  the  honor  to  set 
the  crown  upon  the  King's  head,  and  now  he  has- 
tens me  to  a  better  crown  than  his  own."  One  day 
intervened  between  his  sentence  and  execution,  and 
as  he  entered  the  gloomy  prison  to  which  he  was 
remanded,  his  excellent  lady  met  him  covered  with 
tears,  and  embracing  him,  said,  "  The  Lord  will  re- 
quite it."  None  in  the  room  could  refrain  from 
weeping  and  lamentation,  except  the  Marquis,  who, 
perfectly  composed,  said  "  Forbear  ;  forbear  ;  tru- 
ly, I  pity  them,  they  know  not  what  they  are  doing ; 
they  may  shut  me  in  where  they  please,  but  they 
cannot  shut  out  my  God  from  me.  For  my  part,  I 
am  as  content  to  be  here,  as  in  the  castle  of  Edin- 
burgh ;  as  content  in  the  castle,  as  in  the  Tower 
of  London,  where  I  was  first  put ;  and  I  hope  to  he 
as  content  upon  the  scaffold,  as  in  any  of  them  all." 
He  mentioned  that  he  had  been  endeavoring  to 


THE    MARQUIS   OF    AROYLE.  146 

imitate  the  conduct  of  David,  who  when  Ziklag  was 
taken  and  burnt,  and  his  people  spake  of  stoning 
him,  encouraged  himself  in  the  Lord  his  God.  His 
short  respite  from  Saturday  to  Monday,  was  passed 
with  the  greatest  serenity  and  cheerfulness,  and  in 
the  proper  exercises  of  a  dying  Christian.  To  some 
ministers  who  were  allowed  to  attend  him,  he  said, 
"  Shortly  you  will  envy  me  who  have  gone  before  ; 
for  my  skill  fails,  if  you  who  are  ministers  will  not 
either  suffer  much,  or  sin  much  ;  for  if  you  agree 
with  these  men  in  part  only,  you  will  suffer,  and  if 
you  go  not  at  all  with  them,  you  shall  but  suffer."  In 
this  he  alluded  to  the  growing  trouble  of  the  times, 
and  to  the  religious  persecutions  opened  against  the 
faithful. 

The  Marquis  was  naturally  timorous,  but  he  de- 
sired those  about  him  to  observe,  how  God  had  an- 
swered his  prayers  by  removing  all  fear  from  him  ; 
and  it  was  not  the  work  of  his  friends  to  reconcile 
him  to  his  dissolution,  so  much  as  to  restrain  and 
qualify  his  desires  after  it.  The  morning  of  Mon- 
day, ihe  day  that  he  suffered,  while  thronged  with 
papers  relative  to  his  estate,  his  mind  was  so  fixed 
upon  heavenly  things,  so  supematurally  supported 
and  comforted,  that  he  rapturously  exclaimed,  "  I 
thought  to  have  concealed  the  Lord's  goodness,  but 
it  will  not  do  ;  I  am  now  ordering  my  earthly  affairs, 
and  God  is  sealing  my  charter  to  a  better  inherit- 
ance, and  was  just  now  saying  to  me,  "  Son,  be  of 
good  cheer  ;  thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee." 

Aflerwards  he  retired  for  a  time  by  himself,  for 
secret  devotion,  and  as  he  returned,  a  friend  said  to 
him  "  What  cheer,  my  Lord?"  "Good  cheer,"  he  an- 
swered, "  the  Lord  hath  again  confirmed,  and  said  to 
12* 


146  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

me  from  heaven,  Son,  be  of  good  cheer,  thy  sins  are 
forgiven  thee  ;"  and  gushing  out  in  tears  of  joy,  he 
turned  to  the  window,  and  wept  there.  Afterwards 
he  said  in  a  perfect  rapture,  "  I  think  his  kindness 
overcomes  me ;  but  God  is  good  to  me,  and  im- 
parts not  too  much  of  it  here,  for  he  knows  I  could 
not  bear  it.  Get  my  cloak,  and  let  us  go."  Being 
told  his  hour  was  not  yet  come,  he  kneeled  down 
and  prayed  with  them  all,  like  a  saint — like  a  mar- 
tyr— like  a  seraph.  As  he  passed  on  to  death,  he 
said,  "  I  could  now  die  like  a  Roman,  but  I  choose 
rather  to  die  like  a  Christian." 

Meeting  a  friend,  Mr.  James  Guthrie,  also  sen- 
tenced to  death,  he  embraced  and  bade  him  fare- 
well. "  God  is  with  you,"  said  his  friend,  "  hath 
been  with  you,  and  will  continue  to  be  with  you  ; 
and  I,  were  I  not  now  under  sentence  of  death, 
could  cheerfully  die  for  your  lordship."  The  Mar- 
quis addressed  the  people,  at  his  place  of  execution, 
expressing  his  complacency  in  the  cause  for  which 
he  suffered,  and  then  his  blood  flowed  on  the  scaf- 
fold of  Tower  Hill,  on  Monday,  May  27,  1661. 


REV.  SAMUEL  LAWRENCE. 


Samuel  Lawrence,  the  only  son  of  William 

Lawrence,  a  respectable  man,  and  very  eminent 

Christian,  was  bom  at  Wem,  a  small  mar- 

1661.  kettown  in  Shropshire,  in  the  year  1661. 
When  scarcely  past  the  age  of  infancy,  he 
was  sent  to  school,  that  he  might  be  out  of  the  way 
of  danger,  but  with  no  expectation  of  his  learning 
any  thing ;  yet  while  they  supposed  him  too  young 
to  understand,  he  made  himself  master  of  the  al- 
phabet, and  before  the  year  had  expired  could  read 
in  the  Bible  with  accuracy  and  propriety.  While 
he  was  yet  a  child  he  entered  upon  the  Latin  lan- 
guage, and  made  such  proficiency  in  that  and  his 
other  studies,  that  as  he  passed  from  school  to 
school  his  instnictors  distinguished  and  applauded 
him.  The  time  usually  allotted  to  sport,  he  devot- 
ed to  study,  and  when  his  parents,  fearful  that  he 
might  injure  his  health,  allured  him  by  pecuniary 
rewards  to  join  in  the  pastimes  of  his  companions, 
he  would  return  with  increased  ardor  and  attach- 
ment to  his  books. 

At  that  early  period  his  virtues  and  piety  began 
to  disclose  themselves,  he  seemed  estranged  from 
the  vanity  and  waywardness  often  observable  at 
that  season  of  life,  and  such  a  spirit  of  devotion 


148  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

characterised  him  that  pious  people  were  accustom- 
ed to  distinguish  him  as  one  "  sanctified  from  his 
birth."  He  was  attached  to  the  stated  exercise  of 
secret  prayer,  and  would  rise  very  early,  that  he 
might  secure  the  hour  most  favorable  to  meditation, 
and  send  forth  on  the  wings  of  the  morning  his  soul 
to  meet  its  Creator.  Such  a  fair  and  auspicious 
dawn,  seemed  to  be  the  prelude  of  an  illustrious 
day. 

After  finishing  early  his  course  of  university  stud- 
ies, he  officiated  first  as  assistant  in  an  academy, 
and  afterwards  as  domestic  chaplain  to  the  pious 
Lady  Irby.  Here  his  amiable  and  exemplary  con- 
duct gained  him  great  esteem  and  affection  ;  and 
when  some  of  his  intimate  friends  expressed  con- 
cern lest  his  youth  and  extreme  diffidence  should 
embarrass  him  in  the  performance  of  family  prayer, 
where  many  persons  of  rank  and  learning  were 
frequently  present,  he  answered  nobly,  "  this  does 
not  aflfect  me  at  all,  for  I  consider  myself  standing 
in  a  greater  presence  than  theirs."  He  was  obser- 
ved to  be  very  frugal  in  his  way  of  living,  that  he 
might  save  something  at  the  end  of  the  year,  to  send 
his  father,  who  had  suffered  great  losses  by  fire. 
Filial  reverence,  and  strong  affection  for  his  friends, 
were  among  the  most  striking  excellences  of  his 
character. 

From  his  chaplaincy,  he  was  removed  to  the  pas- 
toral care  of  the  town  of  Nantwich,  and  was  soon  dis- 
tinguished as  a  systematic,  and  laborious  preacher, 
careful  in  visiting  the  sick  and  afflicted,  faithful  in 
catechising  and  instructing  the  children  of  his  peo- 
ple, and  affectionate  in  the  administration  of  ordi- 
n^mc^s.     In  baptism  he  received  the  child  from  the 


RfiV.    SAMUEL    LAWRENCE.  149 

arms  of  the  parent,  and  after  discoursing  with  him  on 
the  great  importance  of  the  deposit,  returned  it  with  a 
solemn  charge  to  bring  it  up  in  the  fear  of  God,  and 
in  the  faith  of  Christ.  He  accustomed  himself  to 
preach  every  Saturday  at  noon,  because  it  was 
market  day,  and  generally  a  great  assemblage  of 
country  people  convened,  whom  he  hoped  a  few 
serious  truths  would  help  to  prepare  for  the  duties 
of  the  Sabbath. 

When  some  of  his  friends  requested  him  to  adapt 
his  labors  more  to  the  delicacy  of  his  constitution, 
he  answered,  "  the  strength  that  my  master  gives 
me,  I  delight  to  use  in  his  work,  and  do  not  desire 
to  live  a  day  longer  than  I  may  do  him  some  ser- 
vice." At  the  head  of  a  family  his  whole  conduct 
was  strikingly  conscientious ;  his  morning  and 
evening  worship  was  performed  with  regularity  and 
fervor ;  his  public  sermons  repeated  privately  and 
explained  to  his  household,  and  his  whole  aim  to 
render  religion  desirable  and  pleasant  to  his  children 
and  domestics.  For  the  improvement  of  some 
young  men  intended  for  the  ministry,  he  began  to 
read  a  course  of  university  learning,  especially 
Philology  and  Philosophy,  and  would  accept  of  no 
compensation  for  his  trouble,  but  in  that,  as  well 
as  in  innumerable  instances  beside,  proved  that  he 
did  good  for  goodness'  sake.  He  was  of  a  peace- 
able and  gentle  temper,  bearing  and  forgiving  in- 
juries, and  his  whole  deportment  was  blameless  and 
conciliating.  Though  his  constitution  was  feeble 
he  was  never  prevented  from  officiating  in  the  pulpit 
by  sickness,  the  whole  time  he  was  at  Nantwich, 
more  than  24  years,  until  the  Lord's  day  before 
his  death,  when  he  was  confined  with  a  distressing 


160  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

fever.  With  composure  and  many  prayers  he  com- 
mitted hinfiself  to  the  divine  disposal,  and  when  in 
the  last  agonies  of  dissolving  nature,  said  to  his 
weeping  friends,  "  I  do  not  fear,  I  do  not  fear," 
and  thus  died  peacefully  in  the  ninth  day  of 
his  disease,  and  51st  year  of  his  age,  Thursday, 
April  24th,  1712. 


MARY  SECOND,  ^UEEN  OP 
GREAT  BRITAIN. 


Mary,  the  daughter  of  James  Second,  was  bom 
in  the  year  1662,  and  at  the  age  of  16,  married  to 

the  prince  of  Orange,  aflerwards,  Wil- 
1662.      Ham  Third  of  Great  Britain.     She  was 

extremely  handsome,  "  but  her  person,'* 
says  her  historian,  "  was  the  beautiful  temple  of  a 
stUl  fairer  soul."  The  dignity  of  her  manners  in- 
spired reverence,  while  her  sweet  and  affable  coun- 
tenance rendered  that  majesty  attractive.  She  ex- 
hibited early  indications  of  a  happy  disposition,  by 
being  kind  and  gentle  before  she  knew  it  was  her 
duty  to  be  so.  This  amiable  temper  grew  up  with 
her  ;  and  it  is  asserted  that  in  the  whole  course  of 
her  education  she  never  gave  her  teachers  occasion 
for  reproof.  Very  early  in  youth  she  removed  from 
her  native  country  to  Holland,  but  though  at  an  age 
generally  termed  giddy,  she  went  under  the  guid- 
ance of  so  much  discretion — was  so  gentle  and 
obliging  in  her  deportment — so  charitable  and  com- 
passionate— so  universally  exemplary — that  she  at- 
tracted the  esteem  and  love  of  all  ranks  of  people 
in  the  United  Provinces.  Their  affection  bordered 
on  rapture,  and  their  veneration,  though  no  more 
than  her  due,  seemed  to  those  who  knew  her  not  al- 


162  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

most  excessive.  Tliough  both  her  parents  professed 
the  Roman  Catholic  Religion,  she  was  a  Protestant 
in  principle,  and  when  her  father  wrote  her  a  letter 
in  favor  of  Popery,  she  replied  with  such  weighty 
arguments,  with  such  spirit,  firmness,  and  intelli- 
gence, as  convinced  him  that  her  belief  was  not  to 
be  shaken,  and  precluded  all  further  solicitations  on 
the  subject. 

In  1688,  after  James  Second,  had  abdicated  the 
throne  of  England,  she,  in  conjunction  with  her  hus- 
band, received  from  both  houses  of  Parliament,  an 
invitation  to  return  and  assume  the  honors  of  royal- 
ty. To  this,  her  consent  was  not  gained,  without 
serious  deliberation,  and  painful  reluctance.  A 
crown  and  sceptre  could  not  dffzzle  the  strong  eye 
of  her  mind ;  she  remembered  that  the  throne  to 
which  she  was  invited,  had  been  rendered  vacant  by 
the  arbitrary  conduct,  and  blind  bigotry  of  her  fa- 
ther, and  to  fill  it  herself  while  he  survived  was  an 
idea  scarcely  supportable.  Yet  while  she  was  con- 
tinually reminded  that  the  good  of  her  native  coun- 
try, and  the  suffering  interests  of  the  Protestant  reli- 
gion demanded  her  acceptance,  her  mind  yielded 
eventually  to  what  her  feelings  revolted  from  ; — 
though  while  she  endeavored  to  support  her  dignity 
with  apparent  satisfaction,  her  heart  was  oppressed 
almost  to  sinking. 

A  sense  of  religion  and  duty  did  not  influence 
her  in  this  great  and  important  step  alone, — but  was 
observable  in  her  constant  deportment.  She  lived 
a  life  of  extraordinary  piety,  and  was  punctually  ex- 
act in  her  attention  to  all  the  public  offices  of  reli- 
gion, and  the  exercises  of  secret  devotion.  Neither 
business,  journies,  or  the  care  of  public  atFairs  were 


MARY   SECOND.  153 

suffered  to  prevent  or  shorten  the  daily  duty  of  se- 
cret prayer.  This  was  in  no  instance  neglected,  for 
she  judged  that  the  blessing  of  the  whole  day,  de- 
pended upon  it.  She  religiously  observed  the  Sab- 
bath, and  attended  public  worship,  three,  and  often 
four  times.  She  was  constant  in  her  monthly  at- 
tendance on  the  Sacrament,  particularly  attentive  on 
her  preparations  for  it,  and  usually  devoted  the  pre- 
ceding day  to  prayer  and  fasting.  In  the  public 
worship  of  God,  she  was  a  bright  example  of  sol- 
emn, unaffected  devotion.  Her  whole  attention 
was  fixed  on  the  sacred  services,  and  not  a  single 
glance  wandered  to  surrounding  objects.  She  re- 
membered that  she  was  in  the  presence  of  the  King 
of  kings,  and  such  was  her  gravity  and  reverence, 
that  she  seemed  to  spread  the  spirit  of  devotion 
around  her.  She  discovered  no  uneasiness  at  hear- 
ing an  indifferent  preacher ;  and  when  asked  how 
she  could  be  so  attentive  to  sermons  of  very  inferi- 
or merit,  she  would  reply,  "  that  she  thought  it  did 
not  become  her  by  any  part  of  her  behaviour  to  dis- 
courage, or  even  seem  to  dislike  one  who  was  doing 
his  best."  She  endeavored  to  difiuse  a  spirit  of  piety 
into  all  who  approached  her :  she  was  continually 
dispersing  good  books  ;  and  frequently  ordered  them 
to  be  laid  in  places  of  attendance,  that  the  servants 
who  were  in  waiting,  might  have  both  entertainment 
and  instruction. 

She  was  anxious  to  raise  the  reputation  of  tlie  clergy, 
as  a  method  of  advancing  religion  ;  and  resolved  that 
tlieir  only  recommendation  to  her  particular  favor 
should  be,  exemplary  lives,  faithfulness  in  labor, 
watchfulness  in  instructing,  counselling  and  cherish- 
inji  their  flock,  and  a  conversation  becoming  godli- 
13 


164  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

ness.  She  greatly  wished  for  an  union  of  all  who 
believe  in  the  gospel,  and  judged  that  the  true  end 
of  power,  and  the  best  exercise  of  it,  was  to  do  good. 
She  would  often  say,  "  Nothing  can  render  high  sta- 
tions pleasant,  or  even  supportable,  but  the  power  of 
doing  good,  and  I  wonder  the  true  satisfaction  at- 
tending goodness  does  not  engage  princes  to  pursue 
it  more  ardently."  Her  bounties  were  frequent  and 
liberal.  Those  unfortunate  Protestants,  who  fled 
from  the  persecutions  of  France,  and  those  who  es- 
caped from  the  confusions  in  Ireland,  had  their  exile 
mitigated,  and  their  distresses  relieved  by  her  com- 
passion. 

She  was  particularly  attentive  to  discover  and 
supply  the  necessities  of  persons  of  real  merit,  who 
had  been  reduced  by  misfortune.  She  obtained  a 
royal  provision  for  wounded  and  decayed  seamen, 
caused  them  to  be  comfortably  maintained,  and 
to  have  the  privileges  of  religious  instruction.  She 
erected  schools  where  they  were  needed,  and  pro- 
cured a  noble  endowment  for  a  college  in  tlie  Ame- 
rican States,  of  which  she  presented  a  scheme,  ac- 
curately drawn  up,  to  the  King.  She  even  extended 
her  munificence  to  the  poor  in  distant  lands,  and  to 
foreign  churches  that  were  necessitous.  The  scat- 
tered remains  of  the  Protestants  who  had  been 
hunted  out  of  their  vallies  in  Piedmont,  she  embo- 
died and  preserved.  For  the  remnant  of  the  Bo- 
hemian churches  she  established  nurseries  of  religion 
in  tliose  parts  of  Germany  which  had  become  ex- 
hausted by  the  miseries  of  war.  But  even  a  royal 
treasury  could  not  have  answered  the  demands  of 
her  extensive  charity,  had  she  been  less  attentive 
aud  exact  in  its  distribution.     Hence  she  was  care- 


MARY   SECOND.  155 

fill  to  obtain  accurate  accounts,  both  of  the  necessi- 
ties and  merits  of  the  candidates  for  her  liberality, 
and  in  dispensing  it,  displayed  as  much  persever- 
ance, judgment  and  diUgence,  as  if  she  had  no 
cares  of  a  diflerent  nature.  She  was  very  far  from 
ostentation  in  her  benevolence  ;  and  whenever  it 
was  alluded  to  by  others,  passed  from  it  to  other 
subjects,  as  though  she  could  not  endure  it. 

In  her  were  united  active  zeal,  and  constant  delight 
in  doing  good,  with  such  unatfected  humility,  and 
indiflerence  to  applause,  that  the  most  critical  ob- 
servers could  perceive  in  her  no  propensity  to  vanity, 
or  glorying  in  her  own  deeds.  Her  charities  were 
conducted  with  the  greatest  possible  secrecy,  and 
whenever  it  was  practicable,  her  own  hand  was  the 
silent  almoner.  None  knew  what  she  gave,  or  to 
whom,  except  those  whom  she  was  compelled  to 
employ  in  the  communication  of  her  bounty,  and 
they  were  under  injunctions  of  secrecy,  for  she  gave 
not  alms  to  be  applauded  of  men.  It  gave  her  great 
pain  to  hcjir  of  the  licentiousness  and  impiety  that 
prevailed  in  diflerent  parts  of  the  nation,  and  she 
exerted  herself  to  suppress  the  irregularities  which 
she  heard  were  countenanced  in  the  British  fleets 
and  armies.  Next  to  open  impiety,  the  coldness 
of  professing  Christians,  and  the  disunion  of  the  Pro- 
testant churches,  afiecled  her,  and  she  would  often 
say  with  the  greatest  feeling,  "  Can  such  dry  bones 
live  ?» 

Of  time  she  was  a  most  faithful  steward.  She 
compared  her  life  to  an  hour-glass,  which  wag  con- 
tinually diminishing,  and  every  sand  to  be  account- 
ed for.  She  viewed  indolence  as  the  great  enemy 
of  human  nature  ;  and  believed  that  the  mind  which 


166  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

had  no  employment,  would  create  itself  the  worst. 
\^^hen,  therefore,  her  eyes  were  weakened  by  intense 
reading,  she  resorted  to  needle-work,  which  she  pur- 
sued with  as  much  diligence  as  if  her  own  labor 
was  her  sole  support.  W  hile  thus  employed,  she 
took  care  to  furnish  entertainment  for  those  who 
had  the  honor  to  work  with  her,  by  appointing  one 
to  read  aloud  something  pleasing  and  instructive. 
Few  of  her  sex  ever  gave  less  time  to  dress,  or 
seemed  less  interested  in  it. 

When  the  ceremonies  of  court  required  her  to 
appear  with  more  splendor,  she  constantly  read 
aloud,  that  those  employed  about  her  person  might 
receive  instruction,  and  frequently  mingled  her  read- 
ing with  such  remarks,  that  they  considered  the 
comment  better  than  the  original.  Never  was 
mistress  both  feared  and  loved  more  entirely  than 
she  was.  She  charmed  her  domestics  by  wise  in- 
structions, and  won  them  by  her  kindness.  She 
softened  the  afflictions  of  the  unhappy  by  the  share 
she  took  in  them,  and  guided  those  who  were  ig- 
norant. It  was  easy  for  her  to  reward,  and  hard  to 
punish ;  yet  when  circumstances  required,  she 
showed  a  firmness  which  the  importunity  of  others, 
and  even  her  own  native  tenderness,  could  not 
shake.  She  possessed  a  sincerity,  which  convinced 
every  one  that  all  about  her  was  uniform  and  con- 
sistent. 

She  never  borrowed  assistance  from  art,  or  cov- 
ered her  designs  with  flattering  expressions ;  and 
when  she  did  not  intend  to  promise,  took  care  to  ex- 
plain her  meaning  so  clearly,  that  none  might  in- 
dulge ungrounded  expectations.  And  such  was  the 
strictness  of  her  integrity,  that  during  a  period  of 


MA.RY    SECOND.  157 

many  years  no  explanation  was  necessary  to  justify 
either  a  word  or  action.  The  frankness  of  her 
mind  and  conduct  was  guarded  by  the  strictest  dis- 
cretion. Those  who  knew  her  best,  and  saw  her 
most  frequently,  could  never  discover  her  thoughts 
or  intentions  farther  than  she  chose.  No  change 
of  countenance  drew  any  thing  from  her  which 
she  did  not  mean  to  impart ;  and  this  reserve  was 
demanded  by  her  exalted  station,  and  the  momen- 
tous affairs  in  which  she  was  daily  conversant. 
She  was  remarkably  free  from  pride,  vanity  and 
passion.  Her  serene  countenance  was  a  crystal 
which  discovered  the  serenity  within.  Jler  breast 
was  like  some  pure  stream,  unruffled  by  the  lightest 
breeze.  The  modesty  and  sanctity  of  her  mind 
were  so  undissemblcd,  that  impurity  shrank  from 
her  presence.  No  natural  defects,  or  faults  of  cha- 
racter, were  ever  the  subjects  of  her  mirth  ;  she 
thought  it  cruel  and  barbarous  to  be  merry  at  the 
misfortunes  or  follies  of  others.  She  was  pleased 
with  Archbishop  Tillotson's  sermon  against  Evil- 
Speaking,  and  when  she  thought  any  were  inclined 
to  detraction,  would  delicately  reprove  them  by  in- 
quiring if  they  had  ever  read  it. 

As  she  uttered  no  calumnies  herself,  she  was  re- 
markably exempt  from  those  of  others,  and  on  be- 
ing reminded  of  this  felicity,  meekly  replied,  '*  I 
ascribe  it  wholly  to  the  goodness  of  God ;  for  I 
doubt  not  that  many  fall  under  severe  censures  who 
deserve  them  as  little."  What  is  good,  and  what 
is  great  in  human  nature,  were  so  equally  blended, 
and  shone  so  brightly  in  her,  that  it  is  difficult  to  say 
tor  which  she  was  most  remarkable.  She  was  dis- 
tinguished for  clearness  of  apprehension,  exactness 
13* 


158  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

of  memory,  solidity  of  judgment,  and  correctness 
of  expression.  She  discovered  superior  genius, 
and  felicity  of  imagination,  even  when  conversing 
on  common  subjects. 

She  read  the  best  authors,  in  English,  Dutch,  and 
French,  three  languages  which  were  equally  famil- 
iar to  her.  She  gave  most  of  her  hours  to  the  study 
of  the  Scriptures,  and  books  connected  with  them, 
and  thus  acquired  an  extensive  knowledge  of  Divi- 
nity. Next  to  this.  Modern  History,  especially 
that  of  her  own  country,  engaged  much  of  her  at- 
tention. Of  Poetry  she  was  at  once  a  lover  and  a 
judge ;  and  liked  it  best  when  devoted  to  the  best 
subjects.  She  acquainted  herself  with  Natural 
History,  and  Drawing  in  Perspective  ; — was  accu- 
rate in  Geography,  and  acquired  a  knowledge  of 
Mathematics  and  Philosophy.  Her  proficiency 
was  remarkable,  considering  the  great  weakness  of 
her  eyes,  and  the  many  hours  she  spent  in  her 
closet.  For  fashionable  amusements  she  had  no 
relish ;  her  favorite  entertainments  were  Gardening 
and  Architecture,  in  which  she  gave  considerable 
indulgence  to  her  taste.  She  sometimes  feared 
these  had  engrossed  too  much  of  her  attention,  and 
would  say,  "  yet  as  they  have  employed  many 
hands  which  might  otherwise  have  been  idle,  I  hope 
I  may  be  forgiven." 

Thus  amiable  as  a  private  character,  if  we  view 
her  as  a  queen,  she  will  shine  with  additional  lustre. 
Few  ever  possessed  so  great  a  capacity  for  govern- 
ment, with  so  little  inclination  to  exercise  it.  Yet 
what  she  reluctantly  Bssumed,  and  cheerfully  relin- 
quished, she  managed  with  the  greatest  skill  and 
propriety.      Called  often,  by  the  absence  of  the 


MARY   SECOND.  169 

king,  to  preside  in  the  administration,  she  ruled  in 
a  manner  worthy  of  herself;  governing  the  affec- 
tions of  the  people,  and  erecting  her  throne  in  their 
hearts.  She  was  gentle  in  commanding,  cau- 
tious in  promising,  generous  in  rewarding,  pa- 
tient in  her  audiences,  and  indefatigable  in  her  at- 
tentions to  the  complicated  concerns  of  govern- 
ment. That  nothing  might  be  done  in  haste,  the 
day  was  early  begun,  that  without  shortening  her 
devotions  she  might  attend  to  every  small  as  well 
as  great  concern,  and  maintain  the  customary  cere- 
monies, and  cheerfulness  of  a  court.  Where  con- 
science clearly  decided  a  duty,  she  was  firm  and  im- 
movable ;  and  while  her  amiable  conduct  disarmed 
the  greater  part  of  her  enemies,  her  wisdom  and  se- 
cresy  effectually  defeated  the  designs  of  the  few  who 
remained  inveterate. 

When  visible  danger  presented,  her  firmness  of 
mind  and  conduct  were  truly  remarkable.  Invasion 
was  expected  from  France,  in  the  early  part  of  her 
reign,  and  while  her  husband  was  contending  in  a 
distant  place,  she  resolved  if  they  should  put  their 
threats  in  execution,  to  take  the  head  of  her  armies, 
and  cither  save  her  •  people,  or  perish  with  them. 
The  first  exercise  of  royal  power  must  have  been 
painful  indeed.  Her  father,  at  the  head  of  a  for- 
midable army,  approached  to  claim  his  abdicated 
throne  ;  her  husl)and  went  forth  to  oppose  him,  and 
she,  encumbered  with  the  weight  of  government, 
remained  in  suspense  whether  to  bemoan  the  death 
of  a  husband  or  a  father — whether  to  see  the  in- 
terests of  the  Protestant  religion  flourish,  or  to  fly 
herself  before  the  scourge  of  the  Papists.  To 
preserve  the  life  of  cither,  she  said,  she  would  wil- 
lingly sacrifice  her  own. 


160  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

During  this  state  of  torturing  suspense,  she 
trusted  in  an  arm  of  Almighty  strength,  and  night 
and  day  her  prayers  ascended  before  the  Most 
High.  When  she  was  at  length  informed  of  her 
husband's  victory  at  the  Boyne,  and  that  her  father 
though  defeated  was  safe,  she  gave  free  vent  to  her 
tears,  and  exclaimed — "  My  heart  has  not  trembled 
at  my  own  danger,  so  much  as  at  the  thought  of  the 
scene  acted  at  the  Boyne  ;  but  God  has  heard  my 
prayers,  and  I  bless  him  for  it,  with  as  sensibfe  a 
joy  as  I  ever  knew."  She  was  repeatedly  in  the 
administration  in  very  troublesome  times,  when 
wars  and  invasions  called  William  to  the  field  ;  and 
she  always  said  that  her  inquietudes  were  soothed 
and  tranquillized  by  prayer.  In  her  brightest  sea- 
sons she  grew  not  secure  or  unmindful  of  her  de- 
pendance  on  God.  The  pleasures  of  a  court  had 
little  place  in  her  heart,  and  she  maintained  an  ha- 
bitual indifference  to  them. 

In  the  conjugal  relation  she  was  uniformly  ex- 
emplary. The  king  possessed  her  highest  afTec- 
tion  and  confidence,  and  whether  present  or  absent 
was  borne  upon  her  prayers.  A  collection  of  let- 
ters written  to  him  while  he  was  engaged  in  the 
wars  of  Ireland,  are  still  preserved,  and  exhibit  her 
in  an  interesting  and  amiable  light.  They  amount 
to  the  number  of  thirty-seven  in  three  months,  and 
prove  that  she  must  have  been  economical  of  her 
time,  to  write  so  much  and  so  frequently,  amidst  her 
studies,  her  devotions,  and  the  innumerable  cares 
of  a  great  nation.  "  She  was,"  says  Bishop  Bur- 
net, "  so  tender  and  respectful  a  wife,  that  she  seem- 
ed to  go  beyond  the  most  perfect  'idea  to  which  in- 
vention has  been  able  to  rise.    The  lowest  condi- 


MARY    SECOND.  161 

tion  of  life,  or  the  greatest  inequality  of  fortune, 
has  not  afforded  a  more  complete  pattern.  Ten- 
derness and  complacency  seemed  to  strive  which 
should  be  the  most  eminent.  She  had  no  higher 
satisfaction  in  tlie  greatness  that  descended  upon 
her,  than  that  it  gave  her  an  occasion  of  making  her 
husband  a  present  worthy  of  himself.  IN  or  had 
crowns  or  thrones  any  charm  so  pleasant  to  her,  as 
that  they  raised  liim  to  a  greatness  which  he  so 
well  deserved,  and  could  so  well  maintain.  She 
was  all  zeal  and  rapture  when  anything  was  to  be 
done  that  could  express  either  aflection  or  respect 
to  him." 

During  casual  indispMition,  and  even  in  health, 
it  was  customary  for  this  excellent  queen  to  medi- 
tate upon  death  and  prepare  for  it ;  and  the  tran- 
quillity which  she  had  felt  at  its  distsmt  view,  did 
not  vanish  when  it  indeed  approached.  Amid  the 
sighs  and  tears  of  all  around  her,  she  was  serene 
and  peaceful.  So  high  did  she  rise  above  mortality, 
that  even  her  husband,  who  was  more  to  her  than  all 
the  world  beside,  could  not  inspire  her  with  any 
desire  of  returning  back  to  life.  In  that  hour  when 
the  most  artificial  grow  sincere,  when  hypocrisy 
drops  its  mask,  and  discloses  the  soul  to  view,  it 
appeared  how  sincere  and  sublime  was  her  piety. 
"  I  have  been  instructed,"  siiid  she,  "  how  very 
hazardous  it  is  to  rely  upon  a  death  bed  repentance ; 
I  am  not  now  to  begin  the  great  work  of  preparing 
for  death,  and  I  praise  God  I  am  not  afraid  of  it." 
She  added  that  she  experienced  the  joys  of  a  good 
conscience,  and  the  power  of  rehgion  giving  her 
supports,  which  not  even  the  last  agonies  could 
shake. 


162  BIOGRAPHY    OF   PIOUS    PERSONS. 

She  seemed  to  have  nothing  left  to  be  arranged 
in  her  last  hours.  Her  mind  was  free  from  anxie- 
ties of  every  kind,  and  calm  as  the  still,  small  voice 
which  seemed  to  be  calling  her  soul  away  to  the 
regions  above.  An  entire  resignation  to  the  will 
of  God,  and  a  willingness  to  be  dissolved,  did  not 
forsake  her  for  a  moment.  Her  gentleness  and 
tender  attentions  to  all  about  her  wore  still  eminent. 
While  she  was  awake  her  most  delightful  exercise 
was  prayer ;  and  so  sensible  a  refreshment  did  she 
find  in  it,  that  she  said  it  gave  her  more  ease  than 
any  thing  which  was  done  for  her.  Nature  sank 
rapidly.  She  received  the  sacrament  with  a  devo- 
tion vphich  at  once  animated  and  melted  all  who 
were  present.  That  being  over  slie  seemed  on  the 
wing ;  and  gave  herself  up  so  entirely  to  medita- 
tion as  scarcely  to  regard  any  thing  earthly.  Hea- 
ven blessed  her  with  a  dismission  so  easy,  that  she 
would  scarce  have  known  herself  to  be  sick,  but 
by  what  was  done  for  her.  Thus  she  put  off  mor- 
ality and  in  the  thirty-second  year  of  her  age  passed 
from  an  earthly  to  an  incorruptible  crown. 

The  distress  of  King  William  during  her  sick- 
ness, astonished  those  who  knew  the  tirmness  of 
his  mind,  and  the  steadiness  of  his  disposition.  He 
was  frequently  m  an  agony  of  grief,  fainting  often, 
till  there  appeared  to  be  no  life  in  him,  then  recov- 
ering and  bursting  into  violent  lamentations.  The 
third  day  of  her  illness,  he  called  Bishop  Burnet 
into  his  closet.  Bursting  into  tears  he  cried  out, 
"  There  is  no  hope  of  the  queen  :  and  1  from  the 
happiest  am  going  to  be  the  most  miserable  man 
on  earth.  During  the  whole  course  of  our  mar- 
riage I  have  never  seen  a  single  fault  in  her,  and 


MARY   SECOND.  163 

she  possesses  worth  which  no  one  knows  fully  beside 
myself."  ^VTien  she  died,  his  spirit  sunk  so  low, 
tliut  there  was  great  reason  to  fear  he  was  following 
her ;  and  for  several  weeks  he  was  so  little  master 
of  himself  as  to  be  incapable  of  attending  to  busi- 
ness, or  seeing  company.  When  Dr.  Tennison 
went  to  comfort  the  mourning  monarch,  he  answer- 
ed, "  I  cannot  but  grieve ;  for  I  have  lost  a  wife 
who  for  seventeen  years  was  never  guilty  of  an 
indiscretion." 

From  the  many  elegies  which  this  mournful  event 
called  forth,  I  select  two  stanzas  from  an  ode  writ- 
ten by  the  poet  Prior,  and  presented  to  King  Wil- 
liam :  • 

For  her  the  wise  and  great  sliall  mourn, 
When  late  records  her  deeds  repeat; 
Ages  to  come  and  men  unborn 
Stiall  bless  iter  name,  and  sigh  her  fate. 

Fair  Albion  shall  with  faithful  trust 
Her  holy  queen's  sad  relics  guard, 
Till  heaven  awakes  the  preciousdust 
And  gives  the  saint  her  full  reward. 


JOHN  HARVEY. 


John  Harvev,  was  the  son  of  a  Dutch  merchant 
resident  hi  London,  bom  in  the  year 
1664.  1664,  and  piously  educated.  When 
very  young,  he  began  to  speak  plain, 
and  with  as  much  judgment  ds  children  usually  do 
at  five  years  old  ;  yet  his  parents,  considering  him 
too  much  of  an  infant  to  attend  school,  restrained 
him  from  it,  greatly  against  his  inclination.  But 
before  he  was  three  years  of  age,  and  while  they 
supposed  him  engaged  in  his  little  sports  near  the 
house,  he  discovered  a  school  house  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, went  without  the  knowledge  of  his  parents, 
and  entreated  the  teacher  to  accept  him  as  a  scholar. 
He  attended  to  instruction  with  so  much  diligence 
and  gravity,  that  he  was  soon  able  to  read  with 
propriety,  and  made  an  astonishing  progress  in  the 
common  branches  of  learning,  before  most  children 
are  masters  of  their  alphal)et. 

This  extraordinary  child  •  would  frequently  ask 
very  serious  questions  respecting  his  soul  and  the 
eternal  state,  ami  was  very  careliil  not  to  do  any- 
thing which  ho  supposed  was  displeasing  lo  God. 
Perceiving  his  mother  to  be  much  sunk  in  sorrow  at 
the  death  of  a  beloved  brother,  he  came  to  her  and 
said,  "  Though  my  uncle  is  dead,  do  not  the  Scrip- 


JOHN    HARVEY.  165 

tures  say  he  must  rise  ajo^in? — I  must  die ;  and  so 
must  every  body :  yet  it  caiuiot  be  long  before  Christ 
ishidl  come  to  judge  the  world,  and  then  we  shall  see 
one  another  again.  I  pray  you,  mother,  do  not 
weep  so  much."  The  astonished  mourner  sat 
silently  reflecting  on  his  words,  and  found  for  a 
tinje,  her  deep  anguish  for  her  brother  changed 
into  admiration  of  her  child.  One  day,  seeing  one 
of  his  relations  come  into  his  father's  house,  rather 
intoxicated  as  he  supposed,  he  went  directly  to  him, 
weeping  bitterly,  and  bogged  him  earnestly  not  to 
spend  his  time  ui  such  sinful  courses,  which  injured 
liis  own  soul,  and  oflended  his  God. 

When  he  was  in  company  with  other  children,  he 
•would  admonish  them  of  their  duty,  and  warn  them 
against  sinning  with  tlieir  tongues  ;  but  he  delighted 
greatly  in  the  society  of  learned  and  pious  men,  and 
they  observed  that  his  conversation  was  not  like 
that  of  a  child,  so  much  as  of  a  scholar  and  a 
Christian.  He  was  strict  in  the  observance  of  the 
Sabbath ;  frequent  and  constant  in  the  duty  of  secret 
prayer,  and  would  sometimes  continue  on  his  knees 
for  a  whole  hour.  Though  he  endeavored  to  be 
entirely  concealed  in  his  seasons  of  devotion,  a 
friend  who  noticed  the  regularity  of  his  retirement, 
and  was  anxious  to  know  what  such  a  child  could 
make  the  subject  of  his  petitions,  drew  near  unob- 
served, and  heard  him  praying  very  earnestly,  lor 
the  welfare  of  the  church  of  God,  that  the  gospel 
might  spread  over  the  whole  world,  and  that  divine 
grace  might  be  more  abundant  in  the  hearts  of 
Christians. 

He  was  a  very  humble,  modest  child,  entirely 
above  the  vanities  of  dress,  contented  with  plain 
14 


166  BIOGRAPHV    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

or  mean  diet,  and  very  careful  never  to  eat  without 
devoutly  entreating  the  blessing  of  God.  He  was 
compassionate  and  charitable  to  all  in  distress, 
wherever  he  could  find  them.  There  was  once  a 
Turk  brought  providentially  into  the  place  where  he 
lived,  and  his  mind  was  so  exercised  in  pity  for  liim, 
that  he  took  no  rest  till  he  had  found  a  person  who 
understood  his  language,  and  brought  them  together. 
The  first  thing  he  requested  of  his  friend,  was  to 
inquire  of  him  if  he  acknowledged  a  Deity,  to  which 
he  answered  that  he  did.  "  Ask  him,"  said  the 
child,  "  what  he  thinks  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 
At  this  question  the  Turk  was  troubled,  avoided 
discourse,  and  complained  that  he  was  thirsty  and 
hungry.  The  compassionate  boy  immediately  ran 
to  a  neighboring  house  and  begged  some  food,  and 
then  to  a  brew-house,  entreating  the  master  to  give 
him  a  cup  of  beer,  "  For,  sir,"  said  he,  "  here  is  a 
poor  stranger  athirst ;  we  know  not  where  we  may 
bo  cast  before  we  die."  • 

His  family  hearing  of  the  circumstances  reproved 
him  ;  "  I  did  it,"  said  he,  "  for  a  poor  stranger,  and 
I  did  it,  also,  that  he  might  think  the  bettor  of 
Christians,  and  of  the  Christian  religion." — This 
extraordinary  child  blended  with  his  piety,  an  ardent 
love  of  literature,  made  great  progress  at  the  Jjatin 
school,  and  was  much  beloved  by  his  instructors. 
When  he  was  eleven  years  of  age  his  eldest  sister- 
was  taken  ill  of  an  infectious  distemper,  and  while 
they  were  praying  for  her  he  would  \\co[>  and  .sob 
bitterly ;  but  when  she  died  ho  said,  "•  The  will  of  the 
Lord  be  done.  Blessed  be  his  name.  My  dear 
mother,  you  must  submit  yoiuself  as  Uavid  did." 
As  if  ho  had  a  premonition  of  his  own  death,  he 


JOHN    HARVEV.  167 

spent  all  his  time  in  religious  exercises,  in  reading 
tlie  Bible,  and  "  Saints'  Everlasting  rest,"  and  writ- 
ing pious  meditations. 

Fourteen  days  after  tho  death  of  his  sister,  he 
was  attacked  with  the  same  disease,  and  bore  his 
pains  not  only  with  patience,  but  cheerfulness ;  "  for 
I  am  assured,"  said  he, "  that  my  sins  are  pardoned, 
and  that  I  shall  go  to  heaven."  As  he  lay  in  the 
agonies  of  death,  he  was  troubled  at  the  turbulence 
of  his  mother's  grief:  "know  you  not,"  said  he, 
"  that  this  is  the  hand  of  the  Almighty  ?  Humble 
yourself  before  him,  and  bow  in  submission  to  his 
will;"  and  then  raising  himself  up,  bowed  lowly, 
and  went  to  his  everlasting  rest,  at  the  age  of  eleven 
years  and  nine  months. 


DR.  HERMAN  BOERIIAAl  E. 


Herman  Boerhaave,  one  of  the  most  illustrious 
physicians  that  the  world  ever  produced,  was  the 
son  of  a  clergyman  at  Veerhont,  a 
1668.  small  village  near  Leyden,  in  Holland, 
and  .  born  on  the  31st  of  December, 
1668.  At  the  age  of  14  he  was  sent  to  the  public 
school  of  Leyden,  and  such  was  his  astonishing 
proficiency,  that  at  the  conclusion  of  the  year,  when 
he  was  scarcely  15,  he  became  a  distinguished  m(^n- 
ber  of  the  highest  class,  which  after  six  months  stu- 
dy is  allowed  to  pass  to  the  University.  About  the 
time  of  his  admission  to  that  seminary,  a  dark  shade 
was  cast  over  his  prospects,  by  the  death  of  his  fa- 
ther, who  left  a  numerous  family  in  reduced  circum- 
stances. At  this  early  age  he  found  himself  sur- 
rounded with  the  perplexities  of  life,  without  parents, 
protection,  advice  or  fortune.  But  the  care  of  Di- 
vine Providence  supported  and  encouraged  him  in 
his  difficulties,  and  carried  him  successfully  through 
the  period  of  his  education. 

Ilis  proficiency  in  the  difiercnt  branches  of  sci- 
ence was  admired  by  all ;  and  when  he  took  his 
degree  in  philosophy,  he  exhibited  a  thesis  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  erroneous  systems  of  Epicurus,  1  lob- 
bes,  and  Spinoza,  which  greatly  raised  his  roputa- 


DR.    HERMAN    BOERHAAVE.  169 

tion  for  piety  and  erudition.  After  laying  a  solid 
foundation  in  all  other  parts  of  learning,  he  proceed- 
ed to  the  study  of  divinity  under  two  celebrated  pro- 
fessors, one  of  whom  gave  lectures  on  Hebrew 
antiquities,  the  other  on  ecclesiastical  history.  Above 
all  he  dili;^ently  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  the 
Scriptures  in  their  original  languages,  with  their  in- 
terpretation by  all  the  ancient  writers,  whom  he  read 
in  chronological  order,  beginning  with  Clemens  Ro- 
manus.  \Vith  these  pursuits  he  mingled  the  study 
of  nature,  and  the  whole  range  of  the  science  of 
medicine,  and  in  this  he  found  a  lucrative  and  hon- 
orable employment,  when  unfavorable  circumstan- 
ces prevented  him  Irom  embracing  the  clerical  pro- 
fession, to  which  his  inclination  led  him.  Some 
time  after  leaving  the  university  he  had  to  contend 
with  the  evils  of  poverty,  and  was  obliged  to  become 
a  teacher  of  mathematics  to  procure  the  necessa- 
ries of  life. 

But  though  his  labors  at  that  time  could  hardly 
gain  a  subsistence,  yet  when  his  merits  as  a  physi- 
cian became  known,  he  found  wealth  flowing  in  upon 
him  like  a  flood,  and  at  the  time  of  his  death  left  a 
fortune  of  more  than  £  200,000,  as  a  monument  of 
■what  honest  and  well  directed  industry  can  perform. 
He  received  the  employments  of  Professor  of  Che- 
mistry, Professor  of  Botany,  and  Professor  of  Medi- 
cine in  the  university  of  Leyden,  and  his  reputation 
began  to  spread  over  all  Europe.  The  Royal  So- 
ciety of  London,  and  the  Academy  of  Sciences  at 
Paris  elected  him  an  honorary  member  of  their  res- 
pective bodies,  and  the  city  of  Leyden,  through  his 
instructions,  became  the  school  of  Europe  for  med- 
icine, botany,  and  the  natural  sciences.  All  the 
14* 


170  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

European  princes  commitled  pupils  to  his  care,  who 
found  in  this  skilful  professor,  an  indefatigable 
teacher,  and  a  tender  friend,  encouraging  them  in 
labor,  consoling  them  under  aflliction,  and  relieving 
them  in  their  necessities. 

When  Peter  the  Great,  in  1715,  went  to  Holland 
to  perfect  himself  in  maritime  affairs,  he  attended 
the  lectii.ir  of  Boerhaave,  and,  as  a  pupil,  received 
hislesM'i^^.  His  reputation  spread  over  Asia,  and 
the  esisteru  nations,  and  so  well  was  his  name  known 
in  those  distant  regions,  that  a  letter  written  to  him 
from  a  mandarine  in  China,  with  this  inscription,^ 
"  To  the  illustrious  Boerhaave,  physician  in  Eu- 
rope," came  regularly  to  him  without  mistake  or  de- 
lay. Amidst  all  his  honors  he  retained  an  humble 
estimation  of  himself,  and  united  to  an  uncommon 
genius,  and  extraordinary  talents,  those  qualities  of 
the  heart  which  render  them  valuable  to  society. 

The  activity  of  his  mind  sparkled  in  his  eyes,  his 
appearance  was  simple  and  unassuming,  and  when 
deep  study  and  age  had  changed  the  color  of  his 
hair  he  was  particularly  noticed  for  that  venerable 
aspect  which  prepossesses  affection,  and  confirms 
reverence.  He  was  an  eloquent  orator,  and  de- 
claimed with  dignity  and  grace  :  he  taught  very  me- 
thodically and  with  great  precision,  and  his  auditors 
always  regretted  that  his  discourses  were  so  soon 
finished.  He  would  sometimes  give  them  an  infu- 
sion of  raillery,  but  it  was  refined  and  ingenious  ; 
and  enlivened  the  subject,  without  sai-casm  or  sever- 
ity. 

He  was  a  declared  foe  to  all  excess,  yet  not 
austere,  but  cheerful  and  desirous  of  promoting  eve- 
ry valuable  purpose  ef  conversation  ;  communica- 


DR.    HERMAN    BOERHAAVE.  171 

live,  yet  modest ;  in  contending  for  the  truth,  zeal- 
ous, though  dispassionate  ;  in  friendship,  sincere — 
constant — aflfectionate  ;  in  every  situation  and  rela- 
tion of  hfe,  virtuous  ;  and  it  may  be  confidently 
affirmed,  that  no  man  in  a  private  station  ever  at- 
tracted more  universal  esteem.  At  the  age  of  42 
he  married  the  only  daughter  of  the  burgomaster  of 
Leyden,  and  amidst  all  his  domestic  and  professional 
avocations  found  time  to  compose  a  number  of  liter- 
ary works.  Surprising  accounts  have  been  given 
of  his  sagacity  and  penetration  in  the  exercise  of 
the  healing  art ;  yet  he  was  very  far  from  a  presump- 
tous  confidence  in  his  skill,  or  arrogance  at  his  su- 
periority of  success. 

He  was  diligent  in  his  profession,  condescending 
to  all,  and  wholly  free  from  that  pride  and  vanity 
which  wealth  sometimes  excites  in  weak  minds.  He 
used  often  to  remark  that  "  the  life  of  a  patient,  if 
trifled  with  or  neglected,  would  one  day  be  required 
at  the  hand  of  the  physician."  His  benevolence 
led  him  to  the  care  of  those  who  were  too  poor  to 
compensate  him.  "  These,"  he  would  say,  "  are  my 
best  patients,  for  God  is  their  paymaster."  He  was 
an  eminent  example  of  temperance,  of  fortitude,  of 
humility  and  devotion.  His  piety,  with  a  religious 
sense  of  his  dependence  upon  God,  was  the  basis 
of  all  his  virtues,  and  the  moving  principle  of  his 
whole  conduct.  He  was  too  sensible  how  deeply 
he  partook  of  the  weakness  of  human  nature  to 
ascribe  any  good  thing  to  himself,  or  to  conceive  he 
could  conquer  his  passions  or  vanquish  temptation 
by  his  own  unassisted  power.  He  attributed  every 
good  thought  and  laudable  action  to  the  Author  of 
all  goodness.     So  deep  was  his  conviction  of  the 


172  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

depravity  of  his  nature,  and  so  profound  his  humil- 
ity, that  when  he  heard  of  any  criminal  condemned 
to  die,  he  would  say,  "  who  can  tell  whether  this  man 
is  not  better  than  1  ?  or  if  I  am  belter  it  is  not  to  be 
ascribed  to  myself,  but  to  the  goodness  of  God." 

The  charity  and  benevolence  so  conspicuous  in 
his  whole  life  were  derived  from  a  supreme  regard 
to  religion.  It  was  his  daily  practice  all  his  life,  as 
soon  as  he  arose  in  the  morning,  which  was  gener- 
ally very  early,  to  retire  an  hour  for  private  prayer 
and  meditation  on  parts  of  the  Scripture.  When 
his  friends  inquired  how  it  was  possible  for  him  to 
support  the  fatigues  of  his  active  profession,  he 
would  answer  that  "  it  was  his  morning  hour  of  med- 
itation and  prayer  that  gave  him  spirit  and  vigor  in 
the  business  of  the  day."  He  recommended  this 
practice  to  others,  as  the  best  rule  he  could  give 
them  ;  "  for  nothing,"  he  would  say, "  conduces  more 
to  health  of  body  and  tranquillity  of  mind,  and  I 
know  nothing  which  can  support  me  or  my  fellow 
creatures,  amidst  the  various  distresses  of  life,  but  a 
well  grounded  confidence  in  the  Supreme  JJcing, 
upon  the  principles  of  Christianity,  lie  made  the 
excellence  of  the  Christian  Religion  the  frequent 
subject  of  his  conversation,  and  asserted  on  all 
proper  occasions  the  divine  origin  and  efficacy  of 
the  Scriptures.  He  recommended  to  his  friends  a 
careful  observation  of  the  precept  of  Moses  con- 
cerning the  love  of  God  and  man  ;  and  affirmed 
that  a  strict  obedience  to  the  doctruies,  and  a  diligent 
imitation  of  the  examples  of  our  blessed  Saviour, 
were  the  foundation  of  all  true  happiness.  He  for- 
med his  ideas  of  God  from  what  he  had  revealed  of 
himself  in  his  word,  and  paid  an  absolute  subrais- 


DR.    HERMAN    BOERHAAVE.  173 

sion  to  his  will,  without  endeavoring  to  search  out 
the  reason  of  his  determinations  ;  and  this  he  con- 
sidered as  the  first  and  most  inviolable  duly  of  u 
Christian.  His  literary,  moral,  and  religious  excel- 
lence of  character,  could  not  exempt  him  from  ene- 
mies ;  but  he  never  regarded  calumny  or  detraction. 
He  said  "  the  surest  remedy  against  scandal,  was  to 
live  it  down  by  perseverence  in  well  doing,  and  by 
prayer  to  God  to  cure  the  distempered  minds  of 
those  who  traduce  or  injure  us."  A  friend  who  had 
often  admired  his  patience  under  great  provocations, 
inquired  by  what  means  he  had  so  entirely  suppres- 
sed the  impetuous  passion  of  anger  ;  he  answered 
with  the  greatest  frankness  and  sincerity, "  I  am  nat- 
urally full  of  resentment,  but  by  daily  prayer  and 
meditation  have  at  length  attained  this  command 
over  my  passions." 

In  his  last  illness,  which  was  extremely  lingering, 
painful  and  afflictive,  his  constancy  and  firmness 
djd  not  forsake  him.  He  neither  intermitted  the 
necessary  care  of  life,  or  forgot  the  serious  prepa- 
ration for  death.  Three  weeks  before  his  dissolu- 
tion, when  a  most  learned  and  exemplary  divine  vis- 
ited him  at  his  country  house,  he  requested  to  join 
with  him  in  prayer,  and  afterward  entered  into  deep 
and  interesting  discourse  upon  the  spiritual  and  im- 
material nature  of  the  soul,  which  he  perspicuously 
illustrated  by  describing  the  effects  that  the  infirmi- 
ties of  the  body  had  upon  his  faculties,  which  they 
did  not  oppress  or  vanquish,  but  his  soul  was  al- 
ways master  of  itself,  always  resigned  to  the  pleas- 
ure of  its  Maker  ; — adding,  "  he  who  loves  God, 
ought  to  think  nothing  desirable,  but  what  is  most 
pleasing  to  the  supreme  goodness." 


174  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

These  sentiments  were  demonstrated  by  his  con- 
duct ;  as  death  approached  nearer,  he  was  so  far 
from  terror  or  confusion,  that  he  seemed  more  cheer- 
ful and  less  sensible  of  pain.  He  died  on  the  25th 
September,  1738,  in  the  seventieth  year  of  his  luie  ; 
much  honored — beloved  and  lamented.  His  funeral 
oration  was  spoken  in  Latin  at  the  university  of  Ley- 
den  before  a  very  numerous  audience,  and  his  works 
afterwards  published  in  5  large  quarto  volumes. 
The  city  of  Leyden  erected  a  monument  to  this 
illustrious  man, — an  uni  and  pedestal  of  marble, 
bearing  many  emblematical  devices,  surmounted 
with  a  medallion  of  him  whom  it  commemorated, 
encircled  with  his  own  favorite  and  expressive  mot- 
to, "  Truth  tmarrayed.^^ 


DR.  SAMUEL  BENIOBT. 


Samuel  Beniok  was  born  at  a  small  parish,  in 
the  county  of  Salop  (Eng.)  on  the   14th  of  June, 

1673.     His  parents  were  religious  people 
1673.    of  competent  estate;  he  wils  their  eldest 

son,  and  bore  the  name  of  Samuel,  because 
he  was  asked  of  God,  and  devoted  to  liis  service. 
He  discovered  early  indications  of  genius  and  piety, 
which  were  cultivated  first  at  the  grammar  school  of 
Whicksal,  and  afterwards  at  the  academy  of  VVirks- 
worth,  under  the  tuition  of  Mr.  S.  Ogden,  a  man  of 
great  learning  and  virtue.  He  was  there  the  darling 
both  of  the  school  and  town,  for  his  sweetness  of  tem- 
per, piety,  ingenuity,  and  readiness  to  oblige  all  who 
came  in  his  way ;  and  his  situation  and  studies 
were  so  delightful  to  him,  that  he  continued  there 
till  he  reached  his  eighteenth  year.  This  was  a 
much  longer  period  than  youths  of  his  proticiency 
usually  spend  at  the  grammar  school,  but  he  thus 
gained  intimate  accpiaintancc  with  the  chissics,  ren- 
dered his  future  studies  more  easy  and  pleasant, 
and  acquired  flie  power  of  speaking  and  writing 
Latin,  with  great  fluency,  propriety  and  beauty. 

^Vhen  he  first  entered  that  school,  in  early  youth, 
his  parents,  after  his  departure,  found  a  paper,  ex- 
pressing great  thankfulness  for  the  care  of  liis  edu- 


176  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

cation,  requesting  their  |)rayers  for  him,  and  begging 
that  they  would  not  indulge  too  strong  an  aficction 
for  him,  or  in  case  of  liis  sickness  or  death,  mourn 
for  him  as  those  who  have  no  hope  ;  for  he  knew  that 
whether  living  or  dying,  it  would  be  well  with  him. 
When  he  had  finished  his  term  at  the  grammar 
school,  and  was  about  to  return  home,  his  instruc- 
tor wept  much  to  part  with  him,  and  expressed  a 
fear  that  his  school  would  sufier  for  the  loss  of  his 
example. 

He  was  afterwards  entered  a  student  at  the  col- 
lege at  Glasgow,  in  Scotland,  having  two  young 
gentlemen  under  his  care.  Here  he  applied  him- 
self with  incredible  attention,  and  fre(juently  stu- 
died sixteen  hours  in  a  day,  subsisting  uj)on  a  httle 
food  that  was  brought  him  to  the  study.  He  was 
universally  respected  at  Glasgow,  for  his  great  learn- 
ing, diligence,  and  serious  deportment ;  and  when  he 
took  his  first  degree,  the  Senate  of  the  university  hon- 
ored him  with  the  Presidency  of  all  who  were  lauria- 
ted  that  year  ;  a  dignity  seldom  conferred  upon  any 
but  their  own  natives.  At  the  expiration  of  his 
term,  the  regents  courted  his  stay,  and  promised 
him  preferment ;  but  no  motive  of  gain  or  ambition 
could  longer  detain  him  from  his  father's  house, 
where  his  coming  was  waited  with  the  ardent  ex- 
pectancy of  joy,  and  his  presence  diffused  serenity 
and  happiness. 

However  he  might  have  shone  as  an  academi- 
cian, nothing  could  eclipse  the  excellence  of  his 
character  as  a  sou.  lu  his  looks,  words  and  ac- 
tions, he  seemed  to  study  to  express  all'cction  and 
respect  to  his  |>arents ;  and  in  his  conduct  to  his 
brothers  and  sisters,  you  might  trace  IVaternal  ten- 


DK.    SAMUEL    BENIGN.  177 

derness  mingled  with  the  care  of  a  father.  He  had 
calculated  to  devote  more  time  to  his  studies,  in  the 
delightful  recess  of  his  parental  abode,  but  was 
incessantly  importuned  by  a  neighboring  congre- 
gation to  supply  the  place  of  their  deceased  pas- 
tor. Being  then  but  twenty-three,  it  was  more 
consonant  to  his  inclinations,  to  study  for  a  time, 
than  to  preach,  and  he  said  he  "  trembled  to  think 
of  supplying  the  pulpit  of  so  great  a  man  as  Mr. 
Philip  Henry ;"  and  when  repeated  sohcitation 
at  length  vanquishetl  his  diflidence,  he  selected  for 
his  text  the  expostulation  of  Jereniiidi,  "  Ah  Lord 
God,  behold  I  cannot  speak,  for  1  am  a  child." 

He  supported  the  clerical  character  with  dignity 
and  propriety,  and  his  performances  called  forth 
admiration,  while  they  imparted  instruction.  He 
had  a  fluency  of  thought  and  expression,  and  was 
lively,  fervent  and  methodical  in  preaching,  prayer, 
and  the  administration  of  ordinances.  In  cate- 
chising the  children  every  Lord's  day,  he  was  exact, 
and  often  successful  in  impressing  their  minds 
with  the  truths  that  he  taught  tliem.  Every  part 
of  tlie  work  gave  him  pleasure,  and  he  used  to  say 
that  "  he  preferred  the  delight  he  enjoyed  in  pray- 
ing and  preaching,  to  all  the  entertainments  and 
gratitications  of  sense." 

His  humility  led  him  to  estimate  slightly  his  own 
performances,  and  when  any  one  commended  his 
management  of  the  public  exercises  of  his  function, 
he  would  answer,  "  that  it  might  have  been  better 
executed  by  himself,  and  far  better  by  anotlicr  per- 
son, and  that  he  never  let't  the  pulpit  without  trem- 
bling to  think  how  poorly  he  had  performed  his 
duty." 

15 


178  BIOGRAPHY   OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

In  his  childhood  his  genius  led  him  strongly  to  the 
practice  of  physic,  and  of  his  own  accord  he  stored 
his  memory  with  medicinal  recipes,  which  he  often 
showed  ingenuity  in  applying.  Afterwards,  as  op- 
portunity ofiered,  he  paid  some  attention  both  to  its 
theory  and  practice,  that  he  might  be  useful  to  his 
poor  neighbors  ;  and  his  reputation  in  that  line  fur- 
nished him  with  more  business  than  he  desired.  In 
the  year  1703,  being  at  Glasgow,  he  was  publicly 
examined  in  his  professional  knowledge  by  a  con- 
vocation of  the  heads  of  the  college,  from  whom  he 
received  great  respect,  high  testimony  of  his  judg- 
ment and  accuracy,  and  an  honorary  degree  of  Doc- 
tor of  Medicuie. 

In  the  practice  of  the  healing  art,  he  was  uncom- 
monly successful,  and  some  of  the  most  celebrated 
physicians  of  that  day,  have  acknowledged  him  to 
be  "  one  of  the  most  ingenious  men,  with  Avhom 
they  had  ever  held  professional  consultation."  lie 
soon  found,  however,  that  this  i)usincss  fatigued 
both  body  and  mind,  and  would  gladly  have  discon- 
tinued it,  but  some  would  make  use  of  no  other 
physician,  and  his  conscience  would  not  sutler  him 
to  withhold  advice  from  those  who  were  in  penury 
or  distress.  To  the  poor  he  gave  gratuitously,  bofli 
attendance  and  medicine ;  and  thus  found  many 
favorable  opportunities  of  counselling,  comforting 
and  praying  with  them.  He  could  not  rest  satisfied 
to  prescribe  for  the  body,  and  leave  the  soul  un- 
warned of  its  danger  ;  and  like  Luke  the  evange- 
list, he  was  indeed  "a  beloved  physician.'' 

His  active  benevolence  induced  him  also  to 
distribute  Bibles  and  good  books  to  the  |)Oor,  with  a 
request  to  read  them  diligently  ;  and  yearly  to  give 


DR.    SAMUEL   BENION.  179 

money  to  a  good  man  in  the  neighborhood,  to  teach 
a  number  of  poor  children  to  read,  with  a  strict 
charge  that  none  should  know  who  paid  him  this 
annuity.  To  this  kind  and  charitable  disposition, 
he  united  a  spirit  of  moderation  toward  all  who  dif- 
fered from  him  in  sentiment,  and  an  habitual  care  to 
give  pain  or  offence  to  no  man. 

In  the  year  1703,  he  married  Miss  Grace  Yates, 
whose  natural  and  acquired  endowments  were  con- 
genial to  his  taste,  and  whose  tenderness  shed  a  new 
charm  over  his  days. 

When  his  friends  observed  his  great  diligence 
in  study,  exemplary  life,  and  happy  talent  of  im- 
parting knowledge,  they  were  desirous  that  their 
sons  should  derive  the  benefit  of  such  example 
and  instructions,  and  he  at  length  complied  with 
their  solicitations.  Finding  many  sources  of  pleas- 
ure from  the  employment,  he  consented  to  enlarge 
his  n»mber,  and  soon  formed  and  regulated  an  acad- 
emy of  thirty  students.  It  was  tlie  opinion  of  ma- 
ny that  his  chief  excellency  lay  in  this  sphere,  for 
Nature  seemed  to  have  formed  him  for  a  tutor  of 
the  highest  grade  of  superiority.  He  had  in  his 
form,  a  mixture  of  grace  and  dignity,  in  his  counte- 
nance, gravity  and  sweetness,  in  his  deportment, 
majesty,  tempered  with  mildness.  His  first  appear- 
ance was  prepossessing,  and  while  a  more  intimate 
acquaintzmce  unfolded  properties  tp  conciliate  affec- 
tion, it  exhibited  nothing  to  destroy  respect  or  reve- 
rence. His  voice  was  clear  and  commanding,  and 
heightened  the  effect  of  whatever  he  pronounced, 
while  deep  classical  knowledge,  and  a  reflecting 
mind,  qualified  him  to  dictate,  or  to  argue  upon  eve- 
ry necessary  subject  with  accuracy  and  eloquence. 


180  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

He  gave  lectures  to  his  pupils  in  their  several 
classes  every  day ;  and  so  enlivened  the  abstruse 
parts  of  science,  by  his  interesting  manner  of  ex- 
plaining and  applying  them,  that  his  students  declar- 
ed, that  if  he  was  sometimes  long  he  wfis  never 
tedious :  He  delivered  many  extempore  lectures, 
both  in  Latin  and  English,  on  some  of  the  most  in- 
tricate points  of  Philosophy,  and  such  was  his  quick- 
ness of  thought  and  felicity  of  expression,  that 
they  were  considered  scarcely  inferior  to  his  studied 
performances.  He  composed,  for  the  use  of  his 
academy,  a  comprehensive  system  of  Logic,  Meta- 
physics, Mathematics,  and  Ethics  ;  for  his  genius 
led  him  to  abstract  speculations. 

These  branches  of  Philosophy  he  understood  in 
their  depths  and  refinements,  and  particularly  in 
the  departmentof  Pneumatics,  was  making  great  pro- 
gress at  the  time  of  his  death,  as  if  his  close  appli- 
cation to  the  nature  of  spirits,  was  a  presage  of 
of  his  own  near  approach  to  the  world  of  sjnrits. 
He  recommended  to  his  pupils  the  study  of  pure 
mathematics,  as  one  highly  favorable  to  internal 
order,  patience  and  perseverance,  and  well  calcu- 
lated to  invigorate  the  mind,  by  giving  to  its  re- 
searches the  certainty  of  demonstration. 

He  was  master  of  the  theory  of  Natural  Phi- 
losophy, and  acquainted  with  its  modern  dicoveries 
and  improvements.  In  comparing  opposite  schemes 
and  hypotheses,  he  divested  himself  of  all  partiality, 
and  taught  his  pupils  to  preserve  freedom  of  thought, 
that  they  might  search  for  truth  uninfluenced  by 
prejudice. 

In  Theology,  he  formed  his  opinions  from  the 
Scriptures  alone,  and  not  from  the  doctrines  of  any 


DR.    SAMUEL    BENION.  181 

particular  sect.  Genuine  expositions  of  that  perfect 
system,  he  considered  as  the  best  divinity  lectures 
he  could  read,  and  invited  his  students  to  examine 
his  opinions,  and  receive  them  only  as  far  as  they 
were  consistent  with  the  word  of  God.  Yet  while 
he  encouraged  freedom  of  thought  and  investigation, 
he  took  great  care  to  fortify  their  minds  with  the 
first  principles  of  religion,  as  the  best  security 
against  scepticism  and  bigotry. 

He  maintained  a  very  strict  and  steady  government 
of  his  academy,  and  his  sway  was  founded  in  rea- 
son, and  cemented  with  reverence  and  affection. 
He  taught  his  students  to  employ  their  morning 
hours  well,  and  to  let  nothing  lead  to  the  neglect  of 
regular  and  secret  devotion.  He  excited  them  to 
diligence  in  their  hours  of  study,  and  while  he  al- 
lowed them  harmless,  restrained  them  from  unbe- 
coming recreations.  If  any  were  remiss  in  their 
studies,  or  careless  in  their  conversation,  he  reasoned 
with  them  plainly,  but  with  tenderness.  He  had  an  ex- 
cellent faculty,  while  they  were  discoursing  together, 
of  introducing  such  subjects  as  led  them  to  reprove 
themselves,  by  their  own  remarks ;  and  they  were 
so  sensible  of  it,  as  frequently  to  reform,  without 
causing  him  or  themselves,  the  uneasiness  of  a 
particular  reproof. 

But  when  circumstances  required  a  close  and 
personal  admonition,  he  gave  it  with  an  affecting 
solemnity,  not  in  anger,  but  in  love,  and  so  as  to 
convince  the  delinquent,  that  he  delighted  not  to 
shame  him,  but  as  "  his  beloved  son  he  warned  him." 
The  mildness  and  firmness  of  his  expostulations, 
would  draw  tears  from  those  not  apt  to  relent,  while 
the  tears  that  treml)led  in  his  own  eye,  convinced 
15* 


182  BIOGRAPHY    OK    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

them  that  he  was  grieved  for  their  misdemeanors. 
These  reproofs  he  followed  with  solemn  prayer ; 
and  such  a  blessing  attended  his  pious  endeavors, 
that  although  he  had  a  large  collection  of  yoimg 
men,  of  difierent  habits,  passions  and  pursuits,  yet 
an  occasion  very  rarely  occurred  for  a  personal 
reproof  or  admonition. 

He  was  a  shining  example  of  serious  piety,  and 
strove  to  excite  and  promote  it  in  those  under  his 
charge.  His  discourses  on  the  necessity  of  holiness 
had  greater  effect  upon  those  to  whom  they  were 
addressed,  becaiise  its  own  harmonizing  influence 
was  visible  in  his  life  and  conversation.  He  was 
successful  in  spiritualizing  common  occurrences, 
and  when  reading  lectures  to  his  scholars  on  the 
works  or  the  wonders  of  Nature,  would  lead  them 
by  natural  allusions  to  perceive  and  to  adore  the 
God  of  Nature.  He  appeared  superior  to  the  little 
vexations  of  life,  as  if  he  lived  in  a  more  calm  and 
undisturbed  region,  or  as  if  his  eye  was  fixed  on 
what  he  delighted  to  discourse  upon,  "things  unseen 
and  eternal."  Those  who  had  no  predilection  for 
serious  subjects,  were  induced  to  listen  attentively 
to  one,  who  addressed  them  with  such  aflection, 
and  was  to  them  as  a  father.  "  My  dear  charge," 
he  would  address  them,  "  if  anything  I  can  say 
will  be  an  instrument  of  advancing  your  good,  I 
have  my  aim  ;  or  if  anything  I  can  do  may  promote 
your  eternal  welfare,  how  happy  shall  I  think 
myself," 

Upon  those  who  were  designed  for  the  ministry, 
and  drawing  near  to  that  important  work,  he  strove 
to  impress  the  necessity  of  solemn  preparation,  and 
the  danger  of  unfaithfulness  to  the  souls  committed 


DR.    SAMUEL    RENION.  183 

lo  tlieir  charge.  He  labored  to  instruct  them 
thoroughly  in  the  original  languages  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  as  they  were  in  the  habit  of  writing  from  memory 
his  daily  expositions,  he  accustomed  them  once  a 
week  to  read  what  they  had  written,  and  by  compar- 
ing the  different  transcripts,  and  conversing  with 
freedom  and  seriousness,  new  ideas  were  often 
suggested,  and  the  whole  engraved  more  deeply  on 
their  minds. 

Once  a  week,  the  divinity  class,  in  llieir  turns, 
analyzed  or  expounded  a  portion  of  Scripture ;  and 
that  they  might  exercise  themselves  in  the  gift  of 
prayer,  the  whole  academy  retired  to  the  lecture 
room  after  he  had  perlbrmed  tlie  evening  worship  of 
the  family,  and  one  of  their  number  perfonned,  in 
his  turn,  that  solemn  act  of  devotion,  beside  the 
more  retired  service  of  every  chamber,  which  they 
were  warned  not  to  neglect.  His  house  was 
peculiarly  a  house  of  prayer,  and  all  the  members 
of  his  family  were  taught  its  worth. 

While  he  was  thus  attentive  to  their  religious  ex- 
ercises, and  solid  studies,  he  omitted  none  of  the 
relinements  and  lighter  graces  of  science.  He  had 
stated  times  for  their  exercise  in  Oratory  and  Poetry, 
and  in  all  tluMr  compositions  encouraged  accuracy 
of  method,  and  elegance  of  language.  He  was 
assiduous  in  regulating  their  elocution  and  pronun- 
ciation, and  at  a  particular  time  every  week,  habitu- 
ated them  to  read  passages  from  different  authors, 
and  that  he  might  perceive  wherein  they  were  de- 
fective, and  show  them  by  his  own  example,  the 
proper  tones,  emphasis  and  pauses.  His  exertions 
were  generally  acknowledged  by  his  pupils,  and 
gratefully  received.     "  Our  tutor,"  writes  one  of 


184  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

them,"  understands  the  passions  of  the  mind  so 
well,  and  has  so  great  an  art  of  managing  tempers 
so  as  to  gain  his  point,  that  if  he  designed  it,  he 
could  easily  send  out  flaming  bigots  to  almost  any 
set  of  principles.  But  he  is  too  much  a  Christian, 
a  gentleman,  and  a  scholar,  to  be  swallowed  up  by 
the  violence  of  any  party.  His  aim  is  to  make 
men  of  sense  and  rational  Christians ;  and  if  we 
fall  short  of  this  point,  it  will  not  be  his  fault." 

Much  of  this  excellence  in  the  department  of 
education  was  imputed  to  his  constant  prayers  for 
divine  assistance  :  for  as  he  acknowledged  God  in 
all  his  ways,  he  found  him  visibly  directing  his 
paths.  Though  his  students,  forming  part  of  his 
family,  had  the  privilege  of  joining  in  his  devotions, 
morning  and  evening,  still  he  conceived  it  necessa- 
ry, to  begin  and  end  their  particular  studies  every 
day  with  prayer,  giving  it  as  a  reason  "  that  there 
were  many  petitions  to  be  put  up  on  their  account, 
in  which  the  rest  of  the  family  were  not  interested." 

When  a  new  student  entered  his  academy,  he 
prayed  for  him,  and  committed  him  and  his  stu- 
dies to  an  Almighty  Teacher  :  when  any  left  his 
care,  he  affectionately  besought  the  divine  bles- 
sing for  him,  and  when  any  were  in  trouble  and 
sickness,  his  tears  and  entreaties  at  the  throne  of 
Grace,  showed  that  his  heart  felt  the  solicitude  of  a 
father. 

Only  three  of  all  his  great  number  of  pupils,  died 
while  under  his  care,  and  he  was  then  seen  to  hum- 
ble himself  and  lo  mourn,  as  for  a  first-born.  Co- 
vered with  tears,  he  uttered,  "  Let  me  resign  my- 
self, and  all  that  is  dear  to  me,  into  the  hand  of 
God.     It  is  the  Lord,  let  him  do  what  he  will.'* 


DR.    SAMUEL    BENION.  186 

Beside  his  public  funeral  discourses  on  these  mel- 
ancholy occasions,  he  gave  more  private  ones  to  the 
academy,  from  the  pathetic  lamentation  of  Job, "  He 
came  forth  like  a  (lower,  and  is  cut  down ;"  from 
the  admonition  of  the  wise  man,  "  Remember  the 
days  of  darkness  ;"  and  from  the  answer  of  the 
mourning  mother,  in  the  2d  of  Kings,  "  It  is  well." 
A  discourse  of  his,  uttered  after  their  return  from 
one  of  these  funerals,  on  the  happiness  of  heaven, 
where  there  is  neither  parting  or  weeping,  very 
deeply  affected  the  minds  of  his  young  men. 

Soon  after  these  afflictions,  a  most  promising  stu- 
dent was  taken  ill  of  a  malignant  fever,  and  brought 
to  the  gate  of  death.  His  physician  had  given  him 
up,  and  he  seemed  to  be  breathing  his  last,  when 
his  tutor  called  together  his  companions  to  join  in 
prayer  for  him,  and  was  observed  to  entreat  ear- 
nestly and  repeatedly  for  his  life,  as  one  who  could 
not  be  denied,  or  as  if  the  spirit  of  strong  supplica- 
tion rested  upon  his  lips.  At  their  return  from  the 
lecture  room,  they  found  an  astonishing  change  in 
the  dying  youth,  wh(3  soon  after  recovered ;  and 
this  striking  circumstance  was  long  preserved  in 
the  memories  of  those  who  witnessed  it. 

But  while  he  was  thus  active  for  the  welfare  of 
others,  and  in  the  midst  of  life  and  usefulness,  he 
was  attacked  by  a  nervous  fever  which  in  a  few 
days  terminated  his  career.  The  evening  but  one 
before  his  death,  he  awoke  from  a  kind  of  slumber, 
as  he  sat  in  his  cliair,  and  observed  that  he  had  been 
listening  to  some  extraordinary  music,  that  far  ex- 
celled all  he  had  ever  before  heard.  Perhaps  this 
was  a  prelude  to  that  celestial  symphony  which  he 
was  soon  to   join  :    perhaps  this  was  to  prepare 


186  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

his  ear  for  the  more  perfect  harmony  of  heaven. 
The  violence  of  disease  produced  occasional  de- 
rangement, but  the  night  before  his  death  he  slept 
so  sweetly,  that  his  anxious  friends  entertained 
hopes  of  his  recovery. 

On  March  4th,  1707,  he  awoke  in  an  agony,  and 
in  a  few  moments  his  soul  and  body  were  disunited. 
He  had  lived  34  years,  and  in  that  short  term  com- 
pleted more  than  many  who  live  until  past  the  usual 
boundary  of  man.  What  a  house  of  mourning 
was  made  on  that  dismal  night,  it  is  difficult  to  con- 
ceive and  impossible  to  describe.  Two  aged  pa- 
rents, who  viewed  him  as  their  stay,  and  their  coun- 
sellor, an  affectionate  wife,  who  had  been  but  a  few 
years  united  to  him,  two  intant  sons,  who  knew  not 
why  they  wept,  thirty  students,  who  mourned  as  for 
a  father,  a  family,  a  church  and  a  people,  as  sheep 
without  a  shepherd.  Few  have  had  more  tears 
shed  over  them  at  their  death,  and  none  have  better 
deserved  such  tears. 


ELIZABETH  ROWE. 


Elizabeth  Rowe  was  born  at  Ilchester,  Somerset 
county,  England,  on  the  eleventh  of 
1674.  September,  1674.  Her  father,  Mr. 
Walter  Singer,  was  much  esteemed  for 
his  integrity,  benevolence,  and  simplicity  of  man- 
ners. His  life  was  a  constant  coiu-se  of  kindness 
to  the  unfortunate,  and  uniform  piety  ;  and  the 
calmness  and  resignation  of  his  death  was  a  striking 
instance  of  the  power  of  religion,  and  the  exalted 
state  of  the  human  mind,  when  animated  by  the 
consciousness  of  divine  favor,  and  the  prospect  of 
everlasting  bliss.  His  wife  was  aUo  a  pattern  of 
virtue  and  piety,  and  they  had  the  happiness  of 
seeing  their  two  lovely  daughters  walking  in  their 
steps,  mutually  and  affectionately  emulous  in  the 
paths  of  knowledge  and  religion.  But  one  of  them, 
as  she  entered  her  twentieth  year,  was  smitten  and 
blasted,  like  some  fair  flower ;  and  the  other,  the 
subject  of  these  memoirs,  passed  along  the  path  of 
life,  lonely  and  mourning  for  her  companion.  Per- 
haps this  loss  deepened  the  religious  impressions 
that  had  remained  upon  her  mind  from  childhood  ; 
for,  blended  with  uncommon  sprightlinessof  temper^ 
was  such  a  reverential  awe  of  divine  Majesty,  as 
disposed  her  to  the  most  solemn  acts  of  devotion. 


188  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

In  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  she  was  very  assidu- 
ous ;  medicine  she  understood,  and  practised  the 
healing  art  gratuitously  among  her  indigent  neigh- 
bors, who  viewed  her  as  a  guardian  angel.  The 
more  refined  branches  of  science  she  easily  acquired. 
The  French  and  Italian  languages  were  familiar  to 
her :  painting,  music,  and  poetry,  she  practised  from 
a  child  ;  but  her  love  for  the  latter  so  predomi- 
nated, that  it  was  her  principal  amusement,  and  at 
the  age  of  twenty-two  she  published  a  volume  of 
her  effusions.  But  her  uncommon  accomplishmejits, 
and  attainments,  were  still  inferior  to  her  sweetness 
of  disposition,  delicacy  of  manners,  and  unaffected 
goodness  of  heart. 

In  the  year  1710,  she  was  united  to  Mr.  Thomas 
Rowe,  a  man  of  great  personal  accomplishments, 
and  literary  endowments,  and  susceptible  of  that 
delicate  and  sublime  attachment  which  the  perfec- 
tions of  his  consort  were  calculated  to  iusjjire  and 
to  maintain.  But  their  connul)ia!  happiness  was 
allayed  by  his  declining  health,  and  destroyed  by  his 
premature  death,  in  the  fifth  year  of  their  marriage, 
when  he  had  just  entered  his  28th  year.  Aft(;r  his 
decease,  his  amiable  consort  retired  to  a  secluded 
estate  in  Froine,  Somersetshire,  to  enjoy  that  soli- 
tude, and  those  intellectual  pursuits  that  she  loved. 
Here  she  composed  her  "  Friendship  in  Death," 
with  a  desire  to  impress  the  belief  of  the  soul's 
immortality,  to  make  it  familiar  with  the  thought  of 
future  existence,  and  lead  it  to  contract  an  habitual 
persuasion  of  it,  through  llie  medium  of  the  imagi- 
nation and  affections.  With  these  were  connected 
her  "  Letters,  moral  and  entertaining,"  whose  design 
is,  by  presenting  fictitious  examples  of  disinterested 


ELIZABETH    ROWE.  189 

benevolence,  and  inflexible  virtue,  to  animate  the 
reader  to  practise  whatever  tends  to  ennoble  human 
nature,  or  promote  the  happiness  of  mankind  ;  and 
by  portraying  images  of  horror,  and  characters 
disgusting  in  themselves,  to  deter  the  young  and 
unwary  from  pursuits  that  embitter  present  life,  and 
endanger  the  happiness  of  the  future. 

In  1736,  her  "History  of  Joseph,"  was  published, 
consisting  of  ten  books ;  and  so  rapidly  did  she 
write,  that  the  two  last  books  were  composed  and 
perfected  in  three  or  four  days.  Mrs.  Rowe  was 
blessed  with  an  excellent  constitution,  which  her 
studies,  her  aflfectious,  and  a  long  series  of  years 
had  but  httle  impaired,  till  some  time  in  the  year 
1736  she  was  attacked  by  sickness,  which  her  friends 
feared  would  prove  fatal.  On  this  trying  occasion, 
she  confessed  that  she  did  not  feel  herself  entirely 
free  from  alarm ;  yet  when  she  had  deeply  reflected 
on  the  mercy  of  God,  through  the  mediation  of  a 
Redeemer,  she  found  such  confidence,  satisfaction, 
and  transport,  that  she  said  with  tears  of  joy,  "  she 
knew  not  that  she  had  ever  felt  the  like  in  all  her 
life,"  and  repeated  to  her  surroimding  friends,  the 
"  Dying  Christian"  of  Pope,  with  exquisite  feeling, 
and  elevated  devotion.  But  she  recovered  from 
this  alarming  attack,  and  by  her  exact  temperance 
and  perfect  serenity  of  mind,  her  constitution  ap- 
peared to  be  reinstated.  But  she  still  expressed  a 
strong  desire  to  enter  on  a  life  of  immortality  ;  and 
when  her  friends  congratulated  her  on  the  health 
visible  in  her  countenance,  and  the  prospect  of  many 
years  to  come,  she  would  reply,  "  that  it  was  the 
same  as  telling  a  slave  that  his  fetters  would  be 
16 


190  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

lasting,  or  complimenting  him  on  the  strength  of 
the  walls  of  his  dungeon." 

Her  blameless  life,  her  trust  that  her  peace  was 
made  with  God,  and  her  habitual  preparation  for 
death,  had  so  divested  him  of  terror,  that  he  appeared 
only  as  a  messenger  to  conduct  her  to  more  perfect 
felicity.  A  short  time  before  the  event,  when  in 
perfect  health,  she  communicated  to  her  religious 
friends  a  firm  persuasion  that  her  continuance  here 
would  be  of  short  duration,  wrote  solemn  and  affec- 
tionate letters  to  be  given  them  after  her  decease, 
and  committed  to  writing  a  paper  of  directions,  for 
her  servant,  in  which  she  gives  orders  that  her 
funeral  should  be  private,  and  no  stone  or  inscription 
mark  the  place  of  her  grave.  On  the  day  of  her 
death  she  was  in  perfect  health,  conversed  cheerfully 
in  the  evening  with  a  friend,  and  at  the  usual  hour 
retired  to  her  chamber.  Soon  after,  an  unusual 
noise  was  heard,  and  her  servant  hastening  to  her 
apartment,  found  her  prostrate  on  the  floor,  speech- 
less, and  in  the  agonies  of  death.  Medical  aid  was 
found  ineffectual,  and  on  the  next  morning,  Sun- 
day, February  28,  1737,  she  died,  in  the  sixty- third 
year  of  her  age. 

From  a  religious  book  that  was  found  laying 
open  by  her,  and  a  paper  on  which  she  had  written 
some  unconnected  sentences,  it  appears  that  the  last 
moments  of  her  life  were  spent  in  devotion ;  and  as 
it  was  her  stated  hour  of  prayer,  she  probably  passed 
from  earthly  communion  with  her  Maker,  to  that 
presence  "  where  there  is  iulness  of  joy,  to  that  right 
hand  where  there  are  pleasures  forevermore."  The 
manner  of  her  tteath  may  be  also  considered  as  an 


ELIZABETH    HOWE.  191 

answer  of  prayer,  for  her  written  devotions  contain 
repeated  requests  that  she  might  not  be  sufiered  to 
hnger  long  in  the  dark  passage,  and  she  often 
expressed  to  her  friends  a  desire  of  a  sudden  depar- 
ture, and  a  fear  lest  the  violence  of  pain,  or  Ihe 
languor  of  decaying  nature,  might  excite  an  undue 
depression  of  the  mind,  and  cause  her  to  reflect 
dishonor  on  the  name  and  profession  of  a  Christian. 

"  Though  her  death  be  universally  lamented," 
says  Mr.  Graves,  "  the  manner  of  it  is  rather  to  be 
esteemed  a  part  ot  her  happiness.  One  moment  to 
enjoy  this  life :  the  next,  after  a  pause  we  are  not 
sensible  of,  to  find  ourselves  beyond  the  fears  of 
death,  beyond  death  itself,  and  in  possession  of  ev- 
erlasting life,  healtli  and  pleasure  :  this  moment  to 
be  devoutly  addressing  ourselves  to  God,  or  em- 
ployed in  delightful  meditations  on  his  perfections  ; 
the  next,  to  stand  in  his  presence  surrounded  with 
scenes  of  bliss,  perfectly  new  and  unspeakably 
joyous: — is  a  way  of  departing  to  be  desired, 
not  dreaded  by  ourselves  ;  and  felicitated,  not  con- 
doled, by  surviving  friends ;  when  all  things  are  in 
readiness  for  our  removal  out  of  the  world,  it  is  a 
privilege  to  be  spared  the  sad  ceremony  of  parting, 
and  all  the  pains  and  struggles  of  decaying  nature. 

Mrs.  Rowe  was  agreeable  in  her  person,  her 
countenance  indicated  a  softness  and  benevolence 
beyond  description,  and  yet  commanded  that  degree 
of  awe  and  veneration,  that  genius  and  virtue  so 
naturally  inspire.  She  spoke  gracefully  ;  her  voice 
was  singularly  sweet  and  harmonious,  and  admira- 
bly adapted  to  convey  in  all  its  charms,  the  elegant 
language  that  flowed  from  her  lips.  Her  manners 
were  refined,  her  deportment  marked  with  ease  and 


192  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

unaffected  politeness.  In  her  apparel  she  was 
merely  neat ;  the  business  of  her  toilet  did  not  in- 
terfere with  more  noble  pursuits  ;  she  seemed  to 
have  conquered  all  desire  of  complying  with  the 
fashionable  follies  of  the  times,  the  vain  pomp  and 
parade  of  life  ;  and  she  soared  above  her  sex  in  re- 
sisting the  foolish  force  of  custom,  and  the  proud 
dominations  of  fashion.  In  early  life  she  discovered 
that  inclination  for  retirement  so  congenial  to  the 
votaries  of  the  muses,  and  retained  it  to  the  latest 
period  of  her  life.  Her  company  was  courted  by 
the  great  and  opulent,  and  if,  prompted  by  politeness, 
she  accepted  of  occasional  invitations,  she  quitted 
her  solitude  with  reluctance,  and  returned  to  it  with 
increased  pleasure. 

But  she  possessed  none  of  that  rigid  censorious- 
ness,  supercilious  austerity,  or  unsocial  propensity, 
which  is  apt  to  adhere  to  persons  of  a  recluse  tem- 
per ;  she  was  as  remarkable  for  every  social  virtue, 
as  for  the  strict  observance  of  positive  injunctions 
of  religion.  She  possessed  a  mind  unruffled  by  any 
of  the  common  incidents  of  life,  and  a  sweetness  of 
disposition  that  could  not  be  affected  by  adverse  oc- 
currences, or  tlie  infirmities  of  age  itself.  She  was 
so  placid  in  her  behaviour  to  her  inferiors  and  domes- 
tics, that  her  servants,  who  lived  with  her  near  20 
years,  never  observed  in  her  the  least  indication  of 
resentment,  except  at  flagrant  instances  of  impiety 
and  inmiorality.  She  had  a  most  rooted" aversion  to 
scandal  and  calumny,  and  was  scrupulously  tender 
of  the  character  of  her  neighbors.  Detraction  was 
so  odious  in  her  opinion  as  not  to  be  justified  by 
the  liveliest  sallies  of  wit,  and  she  never  hesitated 
to  express  her  detestation  of  it  when  it  was  iutroduc- 


ELIZABETH    ROWE.  193 

ed  in  her  presence  ;  and  surely  it  is  not  the  most  tri- 
fling or  least  uncommon  trait  in  her  character,  that 
she  was  never  known  to  utter  an  ill-natured,  or  even 
an  indelicate  thing. 

Of  envy  her  mind  was  too  exalted  to  be  suscep- 
tible, but  always  disposed  to  do  justice  to  merit, 
wherever  it  was  found,  and  to  feel  sensible  pleasure 
when  she  could  find  cause  for  commendation.  And 
when  a  sense  of  duty,  and  regard  to  the  best  inter- 
ests of  others  compelled  her  to  undertake  the  disa- 
greeable task  of  reproof,  she  had  the  power  of  sof- 
tening it  into  gentle  remonstrance  and  affecting  dis- 
suasive. She  was  observed  sometimes  to  com- 
mend persons,  who  eminently  practised  some  one 
virtue,  before  some  of  her  friends  who  were  defi- 
cient in  that  particular  excellence,  hoping  that  they 
might  be  struck  with  the  beauty  of  the  example,  and 
induced  to  follow  it. 

Her  conversation  was  singularly  pleasing,  as  she 
had  a  fund  of  original  ideas,  which  she  conveyed  in 
elegant  language,  with  great  fluency  of  diction,  un- 
afiected  ease,  and  openness  of  behaviour.  Though 
her  accomphshments,  from  early  life,  had  been  the 
theme  of  much  eulogium,  yet  no  vanity  was  observ- 
able in  her ;  the  whole  tenor  of  her  behaviour  evin- 
ced a  modest  diffidence,  and  amiable  humility  ;  be- 
ing affable  and  courteous  to  persons  of  every  rank 
in  life.  She  disliked  the  course  of  fashionable 
amusements,  avoided  as  much  as  possible  all  par- 
ties of  pleasure,  and  all  formal  visits,  as  far  as  de- 
cency would  allow.  She  disclaimed  every  kind  of 
luxury  as  derogatory  to  the  dignity  of  human  l)eings, 
who  are  endowed  with  reason,  and  designed  for  im- 
mortality. Avarice  she  deemed  the  most  sordid 
16* 


194  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

ignoble  of  the  human  passions,  and  was  so  free  irom 
it  as  not  to  know  her  own  estate  from  others,  till 
motives  of  prudence  obliged  her  to  inform  herself. 
She  never  would  suffer  her  tenants  to  be  threatened 
or  distressed  when  they  were  in  her  debt ;  and 
though  some  took  advantage  of  her  goodness,  she 
would  rather  suffer  wrong  than  commit  injustice, 
"  I  can  appeal  to  thee,"  she  says  in  a  written  ad- 
dress to  her  Maker,  "  how  scrupulously  I  have  act- 
ed in  matters  of  equity,  and  how  willingly  I  have 
injured  myself  to  right  others." 

She  was  strictly  conscientious  in  all  the  relative 
duties  of  hfe.  She  loved  and  revered  her  father, 
was  assiduously  attentive  to  all  his  wishes,  and  has 
been  heard  to  say,  "  she  had  rather  die  than  dis- 
please him."  She  so  sympathized  with  him  in  the 
anguish  of  his  last  sickness,  that  it  occasioned  a 
convulsion,  from  the  effects  of  which  she  was  never 
afterwards  entirely  free.  In  the  conjugal  relation 
she  was  equally  exemplary.  She  endeared  herself 
to  Mr.  Rowe  by  the  most  delicate  and  engaging 
attention,  never  thwarted  his  inclinations,  though  not 
always  consonant  with  her  own  ;  and  when  he 
broke  out  into  excesses  of  anger,  endeavored  by  the 
most  soothing  endearments,  to  restore  him  to  rea- 
son and  reflection  ;  and  it  was  her  constant  study, 
by  all  the  allurements  of  persuasion,  to  lead  him  to 
the  practice  of  the  more  exalted  virtues.  In  his 
last  long  and  painful  illness  she  attended  him  with 
indefatigable  assiduity  ;  and  performed  with  strictest 
care  all  the  offices  suited  to  that  melancholy  situa- 
tion. After  he  expired,  she  could  scarcely  be  per- 
suaded to  quit  his  breathless  clay,  and  she  honored 
his  memory  by  perpetual  widowhood. 


ELIZABETH    ROWS.  196 

In  domestic  life,  her  behaviour  was  amiable,  con- 
descending and  aftable ;  she  treated  her  servants 
witii  the  utmost  kindness,  caused  every  thing  nutri- 
tious and  medicinal  to  be  administered  to  them  in 
sickness,  and  would  sit  by  their  bedside  to  read  to 
them  books  of  piety  and  devotion.  In  her  friend- 
sliip  she  was  warm,  generous  and  sincere  ;  happy 
in  finding  merit  to  commend,  and  tender  and  candid 
in  reproving  error.  It  afforded  her  peculiar  pleas- 
ure to  render  them  services  ;  but  her  principal  en- 
deavor was  to  instil  into  their  minds  the  love  of  vir- 
tue, and  direct  their  attention  to  their  most  important 
interests,  which  could  not  be  essentially  promoted 
but  by  a  true  regard  to  the  doctrine  and  practice  of 
Christianity.  She  thus  contributed  to  accelerate 
their  progress,  by  her  own  precept  and  example,  and 
thereby  exhibited  the  most  unquestionable  test  of 
real  friendship. 

Mrs.  Rowe  exemplified  that  the  most  immaculate 
character  is  not  free  from  the  shafts  of  envy  and 
malice  ;  she  felt  the  slander  of  malevolence,  which 
branded  her  with  the  stigma  of  enthusiasm  and  hy- 
pocrisy ;  but  this  she  sustained  through  the  support 
of  conscious  innocence,  and  so  far  from  entertain- 
ing an  idea  of  resentment,  considered  it  as  a  call 
for  the  exercise  of  the  godlike  virtue  of  forgiveness. 

Her  charity  was  extensive  beyond  bounds :  to 
want,  was  a  sufficient  recommendation  for  relief,  and 
she  devoted  the  greatest  part  of  her  income  to  acts 
of  beneficence,  taking  pleasure  in  denying  herself 
the  luxuries  and  superfluities  of  life,  that  she  might 
supply  those  who  were  destitute  of  its  comforts. 
The  first  time  she  accepted  a  compensation  from 
the  bookseller  for  any  of  her  productions,  she  pre- 


196  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

sented  the  whole  to  a  family  in  distress  ;  and  once, 
not  having  money  enough  by  her  to  reheve  the  exi- 
gences of  another,  she  readily  sold  a  piece  of  plate 
for  that  purpose.     Besides  the  sums  that  she  dispos- 
ed of,  and  the  great  number  of  books  that  she  gave 
to  the  poor,  she  worked  with  her  own  hands  to  re- 
lieve the  necessitous.     She  was  often  seen  to  shed 
tears  at  the  distresses  of  others ;  tears  of  generous 
compassion,  not  of  feminine  weakness,  for  she  had 
too  much  Christian  fortitude  to  weep  over  her  own 
son-ows.     Not  satisfied  with  sending  her  servants 
to  inquire  into  the  state  of  the  sick  or  necessitous, 
she  visited  herself  the  hovels  of  poverty  and  conta- 
gion.    She  educated  poor  children  at  her  own  ex- 
pense, furnished  them  with  clothes.  Bibles,  and  oth- 
er necessary  books,  instructed  them  herself  in  the 
principles  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  expressed 
the  solicitude  of  a  parent  for  their  future  conduct 
and  welfare.     This  charitable  institution  comprised 
not  only  the  poor  children  of  Frome,  but  those  of 
neighboring  villages,  and  when  some  astonishment 
was  expressed  that  a  moderate  estate  should  be  en- 
abled to  perform  so  much,  "  I  too  am  surprised," 
said  she,  "  how  it  should  answer  all  these  things, 
and  yet  I  never  want  money."     In  this  she  alluded 
to  the  goodness  of  Divine  Providence,  which  she 
ever  acknowledged  with  the  greatest  degree  of  pie- 
ty, as  interposing  in  her  favor  and  protection.     She 
retired  for  private  prayer  three  times  a  day,  and  was 
most   religiously    strict  in  the  observance  of  the 
Lord's  day,  which  she  passed  entirely  in  acts  of  pi- 
ety and  devotion.     She  constantly  attended  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  Sacrament,  for  which  she  had 
the  highest  veneration ;  caused  parts  of  the  holy 


ELIZABETH    ROWE.  197 

Scriptures  to  be  read  at  stated  times,  every  day  in 
her  family,  and  was  particularly  affected  with  the 
New  Testament,  and  those  passages  of  the  pro- 
phetical writings,  that  relate  to  our  blessed  Saviour. 
A  life  so  blameless — so  exemplary — so  devotional, 
brightened  her  prospects  of  a  future  state,  and 
smoothed,  and  softened,  and  enlightened  her  jour- 
ney to  the  tomb.  The  last  work  of  this  excellent 
person,  her  "  Devout  Exercises  of  the  heart,"  or, 
"  holy  meditations,  and  addresses  to  God  in  the  si- 
lent recesses  of  devotion,"  display  a  fervor,  an  ani- 
mation of  piety,  that  few  attain  in  this  life.  They 
were  sealed  up  and  directed  to  be  delivered  to  Dr. 
Watts  after  her  decease,  and  by  him  were  published. 
The  letter  that  accompanied  them  contains  a  spirit 
of  humble  and  lively  devotion,  and  we  extract  from 
it  only  the  two  following  sentences :  "  When  I 
am  sleeping  in  the  dust,  should  these  soliloquies 
kindle  a  flame  of  divine  love  even  in  the  heart  of 
tlie  lowest  and  most  despised  Christian,  be  the  glory 
given  to  the  great  spring  of  grace  and  benignity. 
Through  the  blood  of  thi»  Lamb,  I  hope  for  an  en- 
tire victory  over  the  last  enemy  ;  and  that  before 
this  comes  to  you  I  shall  have  reached  the  celestial 
heights,  and  while  you  are  reading  these  lines,  I 
shall  be  adoring  before  the  throne  of  God." 


LADY  MARY  V^ERE. 


Her  family  was  respectable,  and  she  was  the 
youngest  of  15  children.  Her  mother  died  three  days 

after  her  birth,  and  her  father  when  she  was 
1680.     only  eight  years  of  age.     But  though  she 

was  thus  early  left  an  orphan,  the  Al- 
mighty adopted  her  into  his  family,  and  the  experi- 
ence she  had  of  his  tender  care,  induced  her  to 
adopt  as  her  motto,  and  to  write  in  her  books,  "  God 
will  provide."  At  the  age  of  19,  she  was  married 
to  Mr.  William  Hobby,  and  was  exemplary  in  her 
duty  to  him,  and  the  religious  education  of  her  two 
sons.  For  this  she  was  amply  rewarded  ;  as  she 
saw  in  their  happy  and  trfctnphant  deaths,  the  bles- 
sed effects  of  that  piety  she  had  endeavored  to  im- 
plant. The  youngest  died  in  his  14th  year,  the 
eldest  in  his  23d — much  admired  for  their  genius, 
and  greatly  beloved  for  their  piety. 

Her  second  husband  was  Sir  Horace  Vere,  baron 
of  Tilsbury,  a  person  of  honorable  descent,  of  no- 
ble achievements  in  the  field,  and  of  unstained  pie- 
ty. He  found  in  her  a  faithful  friend,  and  a  reli- 
gious companion,  one  who  discharged  well  the 
relative  duties  of  life,  and  preserved  on  her  spirit  a 
continual  awe  of  the  Supreme  Rciing.  She  was 
attentive  to  the  appointed  ordinances  ;  careful  in  her 


LADY    MARY    VERB.  199 

preparation  for  the  Sacrament,  and  so  reverent  in 
her  deportuieut  in  the  house  of  God,  that  one  who 
was  in  the  habit  of  observing  critically,  remarked, 
"  Lady  Vere,  by  her  solemn  deportment  would  make 
one  beUeve  that  there  is  a  God  indeed." 

She  was  no  less  conscientious  respecting  private 
worship ;  for  she  did  not  leave  her  devotion  behind 
her,  in  the  church.  Twice  a  day,  the  prayers  of 
the  family  were  offered  on  bended  knees,  the  word 
of  God  read,  and  his  praise  sung,  and  no  business 
or  company  were  suffered  to  delay,  or  to  shorten 
this  exercise.  On  the  Sabbath,  the  sermon  preach- 
ed was  repeated  to  her  household,  the  servants  were 
called  to  render  an  account  of  what  they  remem- 
bered, and  to  unite  in  a  hymn  of  praise  ;  and  after 
their  dismission  they  resumed  the  singing  of  psalms. 
To  encourage  them  in  this  work  of  praise,  their 
kind  mistress  would  often  go  and  bear  her  part  with 
them,  and  every  night  she  prayed  with  her  maid- 
servants, thus  setting  them  an  example  of  "  all  that 
was  lovely,  and  of  good  report."  Twice  a  day  she 
retired  to  her  closet,  and  Spent  several  hours  in  read- 
ing the  Scriptures,  theological  works,  and  prayer. 
Thus  she  made  great  progress  in  the  divine  life, 
though  she  deeply  felt  and  lamented  her  own  unvvor- 
thiness.  She  not  only  meditated  on  death  frequently, 
but  was  strongly  desirous  to  depart,  and  vfaa  one  of 
those  few  Christians  to  whom  it  was  necessary  to 
address  the  exhortation,  "  to  be  content  and  patient 
though  they  were  not  taken  up  to  heaven,  so  soon 
as  they  desired." 

Her  love  to  hor  Ucdeeraer,  and  Heavenly  Fa- 
ther, showed  itself  in  love  to  Christians,  to  ministers, 
and  to  the  poor,  and  they  all  ex|)erienccd  the  marks 


200  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

of  her  kindness.  She  was  distinguished  by  her 
works  of  charity ;  and  these  were  so  numerous  and 
liberal,  that  it  excited  astonishment  in  others  why 
her  materials  were  not  exhausted.  With  unlimited 
generosity  she  gave  to  the  poor,  food,  clothing, 
medicine,  and  accommodations  for  sickness.  But 
her  charity  was  silent  and  unostentatious,  and  what 
she  gave  was  known  only  to  herself.  When  it 
once  happened  that  a  poor  neighbor  died  before  she 
knew  of  his  illness,  she  inquired  with  great  anxiety 
respecting  his  supplies,  and  added,  "  I  tell  you,  I 
had  rather  part  with  my  gown  from  my  back,  than 
that  the  poor  should  want."  In  the  exercises  of 
her  beneficence  she  was  simple  and  humble,  ac- 
knowledging that  what  she  gave  was  not  her  own 
but  the  Lord's,  feeling  her  dependence  on  him,  and 
desiring  to  be  found  in  his  righteousness,  for  her 
own  good  works  in  her  view  were  polluted. 

Her  goodness  was  uniform  and  consistent ;  and 
her  life  was  chargeable  with  none  of  those  inequali- 
ties, which  hypocrites  are  apt  to  betray.  In  every 
part  of  it  there  was  a  beautiful  symmetry,  and  its 
crowning  part  was  humility.  She  placed  a  high 
value  on  the  exercise  of  faithful  friendship,  and  re- 
quested her  friends  to  speak  freely  of  whatever  they 
saw  amiss  in  her,  observing  that  "  others  see  more 
of  us  than  we  do  ourselves."  Her  own  imperfec- 
tions were  ever  present  to  her,  while  those  around 
her  admired  her  goodness  and  piety.  To  the  mean- 
est person  who  approached  her,  she  was  afiable  and 
courteous,  and  when  her  domestics  had  performed 
any  duty  assigned  them,  would  be  particular  in 
thanking  them  ;  for  on  her  tongue  was  the  law  of 
kindne^is. 


LADY    MARY    VERE.  201 

About  a  year  before  her  death  she  was  seized 
with  an  alarming  fainting  fit,  in  which  she  continued 
half  an  hour  without  apparent  life  or  motion  ;  but 
as  soon  as  she  came  to  herself,  she  exclaimed  joy- 
fully, "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth ;  I  know 
whom  I  have  believed."  Her  serene,  and  bright 
day,  had  at  length  a  happy  close.  In  her  last  sick- 
ness her  pains  were  strong,  but  the  constancy  of 
her  faith  was  still  stronger ;  no  murmur,  or  expres- 
sion of  impatience,  dropped  from  her  lips,  but  she 
was  particular  in  justifying  God  in  all  his  dispensa- 
tions, and  in  her  most  distressing  agonies  would 
speak  gratefully  of  his  mercies.  The  last  words 
which  she  was  heard  to  utter  were,  "  How  shall  I 
do  to  be  thankful  1 — How  shall  I  do  to  praise  my 
God  1"  She  closed  this  life  with  the  exercise  of 
that  praise  which  is  to  be  the  employment  of  ano- 
ther, and  entered  into  rest,  on  the  Sabbath  day,  De- 
cember 25th,  1761,  at  the  great  age  of  90  years. 
With  long  life  did  God  satisfy  her,  and  grant  her  his 
salvation. 


17 


COL.  JAMES  GARDIXER. 


James  Gardiner  was  bom  at  a  small  town  in 
Linlithgowshire  (Scotland)  on  the  10th  of  Janua- 
ry, 1688.  ^Miilea  child  he  met  with 
1688.  many  bereavements ;  his  father  died,, 
during  the  long  campaign  in  Germany ; 
his  uncle  was  slain  in  the  battle  at  Steinkirk,  and 
his  eldest  brother  fell  at  the  siege  of  Namur,  on  the 
day  that  completed  his  16th  year.  His  mother,  who- 
was  a  pattern  of  piety  and  virtue,  endured  these  af- 
flictions with  the  spirit  of  a  Christian,  and  labored 
to  promote  the  religious  and  literary  education  oF 
the  subject  of  this  sketch.  He  was  placed  at  the 
school  of  Linlithgow,  where  he  distinguished  him- 
self by  proficiency  in  study,  especially  in  the  lan- 
guages. The  pious  instructions  of  his  mother  had 
no  effect  upon  his  volatile  mind,  and  her  tender  re- 
monstrances were  ineffectual  to  prevent  his  making 
choice  of  a  military  life  ;  for  so  great  was  his  ardor 
in  the  profession  of  arms  that  he  fought  three  duels 
before  he  attained  the  stature  of  a  man  ;  and  in  one 
of  them,  when  he  was  but  eight  years  old,  received 
a  deep  wound  in  the  face,  the  scar  of  w  hich  he  car- 
ried with  him  to  the  gruve.  He  served  first  as  a  ca- 
det, and  at  the  age  of  14  bore  an  ensign's  commis- 
sion in  a  Scotch  regiment  engaged  in  the  Dutch  ser- 
vice. 


COL.    JAMES   GARDINER.  203 

Tn  the  memorable  battle  of  Ramillies,  diirinj!;  the 
reifjn  of  Queen  Anne,  he  performed  many  feats  of 
valor,  in  the  capacity  of  ensign,  and  while  he  was 
engaged  in  rallying  his  men  to  a  desperate  attack  on 
the  French,  who  were  posted  in  the  church  yard  of 
Ramillies,  and  while  the  most  blasphemous  oaths 
trembled  on  his  tongue,  he  received  a  bullet  in  the 
mouth  which  passed  out  through  his  neck,  and  in  a 
state  of  racking  anguish  lay  on  the  field  of  battle  the 
whole  night,  covered  with  his  own  blood,  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  dying.  But  neither  the  tortures  of  a 
wound,  inflamed  by  neglect  and  improper  treatment, 
nor  the  depression  of  sickness,  nor  yet  the  miracle  of 
his  deliverance,  impressed  his  heart  or  awakened  it  to 
reflection.  At  his  recovery  he  again  retunied  to 
his  vices,  and  plunged  into  every  course  of  shame- 
less dissipation.  Yet  in  this  life  of  licentiousness 
he  realized  no  happiness,  and  when  his  gay  friends 
were  once  congratulating  him  on  his  successes  and 
felicity,  he  happened  to  cast  his  eye  upon  a  dog  that 
entered  the  room,  and  could  not  forbear  groaning 
inwardly,  and  wishing  "  Oh,  that  I  were  that  dog  /" 

In  this  course  he  continued  till  past  the  30th  year 
of  his  age,  when  he  was  reclaimed  by  an  almost  mi- 
raculous interposition  of  divine  power.  In  the 
midst  of  horrible  criminality,  his  mind  became  so 
suddenly  and  deeply  impressed,  that  he  thought  he 
saw  before  his  eyes,  a  representation  of  the  crucified 
Saviotir,  and  heard  his  voice  expostulating  with  him. 
The  deep  amazement  of  his  soul  was  succeeded  by 
several  days  and  nights  of  extreme  horror,  till  at 
length,  as  if  in  answer  to  agonizing  cries  and  pray- 
ers, the  day-spring  of  salvation  dawned  from  on 
high.     An  entire  change  was  wrought  in  his  views, 


204  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

affections,  and  propensities,  and  he  who  was  once 
Wind  through  the  enmity  of  sin,  saw  clearly.  This 
perceptible  alteration  of  his  behaviour,  soon  exci- 
ted the  raillery  and  ridicule  of  his  former  compan- 
ions, but  he  sustained  it  with  calmness,  and  told 
them  of  his  unalterable  determination  to  serve  the 
Lord. 

At  his  return  from  Paris  to  London,  knowing  that 
he  must  encounter  the  ridicule  of  those  with  whom 
he  had  once  associated  in  sin,  he  requested  that  he 
might  meet  them  on  a  social  party  at  the  house  of  a 
friend.  During  dinner  he  was  the  object  of  their 
sharpest  witticisms,  to  which  he  made  little  reply  ; 
but  when  the  cloth  was  removed,  he  entreated  their 
hearing,  while  he  recounted  the  cause  of  his  visible 
alteration,  the  thorough  change  of  his  principles  and 
affections,  and  the  peace  and  serenity  which  he  en- 
joyed, to  which  he  was  before  a  stranger.  They 
listened  to  this  manly  and  rational  defence  with  the 
deepest  astonishment,  and  the  master  of  the  house, 
rising,  said — "  Come,  let  us  call  another  cause.  We 
thought  this  man  mad,  and  he  is  in  good  earnest 
proving  that  we  are  so."  When  his  friends  perceiv- 
ed him  still  cheerful  and  conversible,  they  no  longer 
cavilled  at  his  opinions,  but  seemed  to  wish  to  share 
his  serenity,  and  to  look  upon  him  as  a  superior  be- 
ing. 

None  ever  knew  better  how  to  blend  the  grace- 
ful and  amiable  discharge  of  the  duties  of  life,  with 
the  strict  devotion  of  a  Christian.  He  always  rose 
so  early,  as  to  be  able  to  devote  two  hours  to  pray- 
er, meditation  and  praise,  in  which  he  acquired  an 
uncommon  fervency,  and  realized  great  delight.  If, 
during  the  bustle  of  a  camp  life,  he  was  obliged  to 


COL.    JAMES    OAROIN£R.  205 

be  at  the  head  of  his  regiment  earlier  than  usual, 
he  would  begin  his  devotions  by  one  or  two  o'clock, 
that  nothing  might  intrench  upon  his  specified  holy 
time.  When  he  received  a  letter  from  a  friend,  it 
was  his  practice  to  retire  and  pray  for  him,  and  when 
he  had  the  care  of  a  family,  prayer  and  praise  were 
continually  offered,  morning  and  evening,  and  he 
engaged  a  clergyman  to  reside  there  and  officiate  in 
his  absence,  and  serve  as  tutor  to  his  children. 

His  letters  are  written  in  the  most  fervent  strain 
of  piety  ;  "  I  am  daily  offering  up  my  prayers,"  he 
adds  in  one  of  them,  "  for  tliis  fcinl'iil  land  of  ours, 
over  which  the  judgments  of  Go<i  seem  to  be  gath- 
ering ;  and  my  strength  is  sometinnes  so  exhausted 
with  those  strong  cries  and  tears  which  I  pour  out 
before  my  God,  that  I  am  haidly  able  to  stand  when 
I  rise  from  my  knees." 

The  life  of  this  extraordinary  man  was  termina- 
ted at  the  battle  of  Preston  Pans,  Sept.  21st,  1745, 
where  he  fell  gallantly  fighting  at  the  head  of  his 
regiment.  He  received  in  the  beginning  of  the  ac- 
tion a  bullet  in  the  breast,  and  a  shot  in  the  thigh, 
which  he  disregarded,  and  continued  animating  his 
men  by  his  voice  and  example,  until  a  highlander, 
with  a  scythe,  almost  severed  his  right  arm  from  his 
body,  and  dragged  him  from  his  horse,  when  anoth- 
er highlander  with  a  Lochaber  axe  gave  him  his 
mortal  wound.  Elevating  the  arm  that  was  left  he 
gave  signal  for  his  men  to  retreat,  and  as  he  lay  ex- 
piring in  blood  said  feebly  to  a  chief  of  the  opposite 
party,  "  you  are  fighting  for  an  earthly  crown,  I  go 
to  receive  an  heavenly  one." 
17* 


REV.    JONATHAN  EDWARDS. 


Jonathan  Edwards  was  born  at  East  Wind- 
sor, Connecticut,  on  the  5th  of  October, 
1703.  1703.  He  was  the  only  brother  of  ten 
sisters,  and  the  only  son  of  the  Rev.  Tim- 
othy Edwards,  inhiister  of  East  Windsor,  who 
labored  as  a  preacher  more  than  fifty-nine  years, 
and  died  at  the  age  of  ninety,  universally  esteemed, 
beloved  and  venerated.  This  son,  in  the  year 
1716,  entered  a  student  at  Yale  College,  and  soon 
became  distinguished  by  proficiency  in  knowledge 
and  serious  deportment.  In  the  second  year  of  his 
attendance,  while  only  thirteen,  he  read  Locke's 
Essay  on  the  Human  tJnderstanding,  with  so  much 
eagerness  and  fixed  attention,  that  it  had  a  powerful 
influence  upon  his  mind,  and  seemed  to  awaken 
and  invigorate  those  logical  and  metaphysical  pow- 
ers, for  which  he  was  afterwards  so  greatly  eminent. 
Taking  that  book  into  his  hand,  not  long  before  his 
death,  he  said  to  some  select  friends,  who  surround- 
ed him,  that  in  his  boyhood  at  college,  he  had  more 
satisfaction  and  pleasure  in  studying  it,  than  the 
most  greedy  miser  in  gathering  handfuls  of  gold 
and  silver  from  a  newly  discovered  treasure. 

In  his  early  years  an  uncommon  genius  began  to 
discover  itself ;  for  Nature  had  formed  him  for  in- 


REV.    JONATHAN    EDWARDS.  207 

tense  thought,  and  deep  penetration;  and  though 
he  made  proficiency  in  all  the  arts  and  sciences 
then  taught,  yet  moral  philosophy  and  divinity  were 
his  favorite  studies.  When  only  16,  he  received 
the  honors  of  Yale  College,  and  continued  there 
two  years  after,  studying  and  preparing  for  the  work 
of  the  ministry.  After  passing  the  pre-requisite 
trials,  he  was  licensed  as  a  candidate,  and  preached 
to  a  society  in  New  York  for  eight  months,  to  uni- 
versal acceptance. 

While  here  he  contracted  a  strong  religious 
friendship  with  an  aged  widow  lady  where  he  board- 
ed, and  with  her  son.  "  My  heart  was  knit  in  af- 
fection to  them,"  he  writes  more  than  twenty  years 
afterwards,  "  and  I  could  not  bear  the  thoughts  of 
other  companions,  than  those  who  were  disciples  of 
the  blessed  Jesus.  When  I  came  from  New  York 
I  had  a  most  bitter  parting  with  Madam  Smith  and 
her  son.  My  heart  seemed  to  sink  within  me,  at 
leaving  the  family  and  city  where  I  had  enjoyed  so 
many  sweet  and  pleasant  days  ;  and  as  the  vessel 
sailed  away,  I  kept  sight  of  the  city  as  long  as  I 
could  ;  and  when  it  could  no  longer  be  seen,  it 
would  affect  me  much  to  look  that  way  with  a  kind 
of  melancholy,  mixed  with  sweetness."  He  was 
earnestly  solicited  to  settle  at  New  York,  but  think- 
ing that  the  society  where  he  preached  was  too 
small  to  support  the  expense  of  a  minister,  and  that 
a  longer  term  of  study  was  requisite  for  his  youth, 
as  he  was  then  but  19,  he  retired  to  his  father's 
house,  and  devoted  the  summer  to  close  and  dili- 
gent study. 

Here  his  diary  notes  every  change  of  his  heart, 
as  well  as  of  God's  dealings  with  him,  and  the  pious 


208  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

resolutions  formed  for  the  direction  of  his  conduct, 
deserve  the  notice  and  remembrfince  of  every  seri- 
ous person.  They  are  seventy  in  number,  and  a 
few  only  are  transcribed,  as  the  limits  of  this  sketch 
will  not  allow  the  admission  of  the  whole. 

"  Resolved,  Never  to  lose  one  moment  of  time  ; 
but  improve  it  the  most  profitable  way  1  can.  • 

"  Never  to  do  anything  that  I  should  be  afraid  to 
do,  if  it  were  the  last  moment  of  my  life. 

"To  think  much  on  all  occasions  of  my  owa 
dying,  and  of  the  common  circumstances  that  at- 
tend death. 

"  To  be  endeavoring  to  find  out  fit  objects  for 
charity  and  liberality. 

"  Never  to  do  anything  out  of  revenge. 

"  Never  to  suffer  the  least  emotions  of  anger  to 
irrational  beings. 

"  To  live  at  all  times  as  I  think  is  best  in  my 
devout  frames,  and  when  I  have  the  clearest  views 
of  the  gospel,  and  another  world. 

"  Never  to  speak  anything  in  nan-ation  but  sim- 
ple truth. 

"  To  inquire  every  night  as  I  am  going  (o  bed, 
wherein  I  have  been  negligent,  what  sin  I  have 
committed,  and  wherein  I  have  denied  myself;  also 
at  the  end  of  every  week,  month  and  year. 

"  To  maintain  the  strictest  temperance  in  diet. 

"  Never  to  speak  anything  that  is  ridiculous,  or 
matter  of  laughter,  on  the  liOrd's  day. 

"  Never  to  allow  the  least  measure  of  fretting 
uneasiness,  at  my  father  or  mother.  Resolved,  to 
suffer  no  effects  of  it,  so  much  as  in  the  least  alter- 
ation of  speech,  or  motion  of  the  eye  :  and  to  be 


REV.    JONATHAN    EDWARDS.  209 

especially  careful,  with  respect  to  any  of  the  family. 

"  To  endeavor  to  my  utmost  to  deny  whatever  is 
not  agreeable  to  a  good  and  universally  sweet,  and 
benevolent,  quiet,  peaceable,  contented,  easy,  com- 
passionate, generous,  humble,  meek,  modest,  sub- 
missive, obliging,  diligent,  industrious,  charitable, 
even,  patient,  moderate,  forgiving,  sincere  temper  ; 
and  to  examine  strictly  every  week  whether  I  have 
done  so. 

"  Resolved,  all  my  life  long,  with  the  greatest 
openness  of  which  I  am  capable,  to  declare  my 
ways  to  God,  and  lay  open  my  soul  to  him  ;  all  my 
sins,  temptations,  difficulties,  sorrows,  fears,  hopes, 
desires,  every  thing  and  every  circumstance." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  life,  useful,  emi- 
nent and  holy.  This  was  the  youth  who  was  after- 
wards to  be  one  of  the  greatest  divines,  and  most 
acute  logicians,  that  America  ever  produced ;  of 
whom  experienced  ministers  were  to  say,  "  that  he 
was,  under  heaven,  their  oracle  ;"  and  whose  writ- 
ings were  to  gain  him  the  applause  and  admiration 
of  America,  Great  Britain,  Holland  and  Germany. 
He  began  his  life  with  watchfulness,  pious  resolu- 
tions, and  prayers  :  is  this  the  usual  course  and 
practice  of  the  youth  of  the  present  day  ?  Let 
them  know  that  he  arrived  at  eminence  by  such 
methods  ;  let  them  follow  his  steps,  and  expect  the 
blessing  of  Godg^  To-day,  if  they  will  hear  the 
voice,  that  from  Ine  life  and  writings  of  a  departed 
saint  speaks  unto  them,  let  them  not  harden  their 
hearts,  but  turn  unto  Him,  who,  if  sought  early, 
will  be  found,  and  if  called  upon  humbly  and  ear- 
nestly, will  answer. 


210  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

At  the  age  of  twenty,  he  was  nominated  tutor  of 
Yale  College,  where  he  continued  two  years,  and 
then  accepted  an  invitation  to  settle  at  Northampton, 
as  colleague  pastor  with  his  grandfather  Stoddard, 
who  was  then  Uving  at  an  advanced  age.  It  is 
rather  a  singular  coincidence,  that  he  was  twenty- 
three  years  and  four  months  old  when  ordained  at 
Northampton,  and  continued  tViere  exactly  twenty- 
three  years  and  four  months.  The  summer  after  his 
settlement  he  was  married  to  Miss  Sarah  Pierpont, 
daughter  of  the  Rev.  James  Pierpont,  the  worthy 
and  respected  minister  of  New  Haven.  She  was 
happily  calculated  to  advance  his  interest,  and  in- 
crease his  enjoyment,  and  this  union  was  a  source 
of  much  felicity  to  both. 

And  now  the  lustre  of  his  piety  began  to  diffuse 
itself  over  a  wider  sphere,  and  to  vivify  many  cold 
and  inattentive  hearts.  As  a  preacher,  his  excellence 
was  acknowledged  even  by  those  who  received  not 
his  doctrine.  He  took  great  pains  in  preparing  his 
sermons,  his  knowledge  of  the  human  heart  sug- 
gested many  affecting  truths,  and  his  delivery  of 
them  was  easy,  methodical,  and  deeply  solemn. 
Towards  the  close  of  his  life,  he  was  little  confined 
to  his  notes,  and  used  to  advise  young  preachers,  to 
commit  their  sermons  to  memory,  and  gradually 
discontinue  the  use  of  notes,  that  they  might  address 
with  more  freedom  and  better  effect  the  hearts  of 
their  audience. 

In  his  prayers,  he  had  an  undissembled  and  almost 
inimitable  spirit  of  devotion,  and  seemed  indeed  to 
draw  nigh  to  the  throne  of  a  father.  This  service,, 
though  delightful  to  him,  he  did  not  protract  to  great 
length,  observing  that  this  was  an  error  often  hurtful 


REV.    JONATHAN    CDWARDS.  211 

to  public  and  social  prayer,  and  calculated  more  to 
dampen  than  to  promote  true  devotion.  He  cate- 
chised the  children  in  public  every  Sabbath,  often 
called  them  with  the  youth  to  his  own  house,  that  he 
might  pray  and  converse  religiously  with  them,  and 
propose  questions  to  some  of  them  in  writing,  which 
they  were  to  answer  after  a  suitable  time,  thus  ex- 
citing them  to  the  knowledge  of  the  scriptures.  Ma- 
ny fruits  of  his  labors  were  visible  among  his  people, 
and  in  the  years  1734  and  41,  were  two  such  general 
seasons  of  awakening,  as  to  excite  universal  attention 
in  surrounding  places.  Of  the  first,  which  was  the 
most  remarkable,  he  published  an  account  entitled, 
•*'A  faithful  Narrative  of  the  surprising  work  of 
God,  in  the  conversion  of  many  hundred  souls  in 
Northampton ;"  this  was  reprinted  in  Germany, 
England  and  America. 

His  benevolent  disposition  discovered  itself  by 
bis  uncommon  Uberality  to  the  poor  and  distressed. 
His  donations  were  generally  made  privately,  or 
with  strict  commands  that  none  should  mention  the 
name  of  the  giver ;  though  since  his  death  such  a 
number  of  instances  have  been  discovered  as  con- 
stitute him  one  of  the  greatest  charitable  examples 
of  our  age,  and  doubtless  many — many  will  continue 
unknown  until  the  resurrection  of  the  just.  Though 
he  was  not  in  affluent  circumstances,  and  was  bur- 
dened with  the  maintenance  of  a  numerous  family, 
he  imparted  largely  and  willingly,  but  gave  not  has 
alms  to  be  seen  or  applauded  by  men. 

He  did  not  entangle  himself  with  the  affairs  of 
this  life,  and  had  no  desire  to  lay  up  perishable 
riches  for  himself  or  his  children.  He  observed  the 
strictest  integrity  in  all  his  dealings,  and  displayed 


212  BIOGRAPHY   OP    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

the  most  sacred  regard  to  truth,  not  only  in  promises, 
but  in  the  simplest  narration.  He  was  cautious  in 
the  choice  of  acquaintance,  unreserved  and  faithful 
in  friendship,  and  inviolable  in  preserving  secrets 
entrusted  to  him.  His  conversation  was  profitable 
and  mstructive,  but  he  never  spent  his  time  in  study- 
ing the  art  of  trifling.  In  promiscuous  company, 
unless  some  important  subject  of  discourse  was 
agitated,  he  spoke  little,  for  he  was  not  ambitious  of 
being  idly  entertaining,  and  thought  his  chief  excel- 
lence did  not  consist  in  a  talent  for  conversation. 
"  As  far  as  I  am  able  to  judge,"  he  writes,  "  of  what 
talents  I  have,  for  benefiting  my  fellow  creatures  by 
words,  I  think  I  can  write  better  than  I  can  speak." 
In  the  relative  duties  of  hfe,  as  a  son  and  brother, 

«gt    a  husband  and  father,  he  was  faithful  and  affectionate. 

^  He  maintained  an  uniform  government  of  his  family, 
and  so  established  parental  authority,  as  to  obtain 
cheerful  obedience,  reverence  and  affection.  He 
was  careful  to  instruct  them  in  the  principles  of 
religion,  to  restrain  them  from  vain  and  unreasonable 
amusements,  and  to  teach  them  reverently  to  obsen'e 
the  Sabbath.  As  he  believed  its  exercises  began  at 
sunset  the  evening  before,  he  was  careful  that  his 
household  should  finish  all  their  secular  business, 
and  be  convened  at  that  time,  when  he  examined  his 
children  in  their  rehgious  studies,  took  particular 
care  that  they  understood  what  they  repeated,  and 
then  would  sing  a  psalm,  and  attend  prayers,  as  an 
introductory  exercise  to  the  Lord's  day. 

He  was  remarkable  for  rising  early,  and  required 
his  family  to  follow  his  example,  and  to  attend 
customary  devotions  ere  they  entered  upon  worldly 
business.     Before  prayers  a  portion  of  Scripture 


REV.   JONATHAN    EDWARDS.  213 

was  read,  usually  by  candle  light  in  the  winter,  upon 
which  he  questioned  his  children  according  to  their 
age  and  capacity,  explaining,  illustrating  and  enfor- 
cing as  he  saw  occasion.  He  frequently  conversed 
with  his  children  separately  in  his  study,  on  their 
eternal  concerns,  giving  them  warning,  exhortation 
or  direction,  as  their  state  seemed  to  require.  In 
his  study,  also,  he  was  accustomed  to  converse  with 
his  amiable  and  pious  consort,  on  the  affairs  of 
religion,  and  constantly  prayed  with  her  there,  once 
a  day,  beside  family  and  private  devotion. 

In  his  manner  of  life,  study,  diet  and  recreation, 
he  was  strictly  methodical.  He  was  very  temperate 
in  eating  and  drinking,  that  the  powers  of  the  mind 
might  be  unburdened  and  active.  His  time  of  risinat  , 
was  four  in  the  morning  ;  his  daily  time  of  study  >*» 
thirteen  hours  ;  his  recreation,  riding  on  hoiseliack 
after  dinner,  two  or  three  miles,  when  he  \voul<n4e 
dismount  and  walk  in  some  retired  grove  or  l"ore8t,flF 
carrying  with  him  a  pen,  to  note  the  thought»  Mat 
arose  in  his  mind.  He  was  punctual  and  frequent 
in  the  exercise  of  private  devotion,  and  often  kept 
days  of  fasting,  prayer,  and  devout  meditation.  In 
youth,  he  recorded  a  resolution  in  his  diary,  to  pray 
secretly  more  than  twice  a  day,  and  it  was  known 
that  he  was  much  on  his  knees,  engaged  in  that 
most  solemn  service.  Constant  and  devout  com- 
munion with  God  in  these  retired  hours,  gave  to  his 
countenance  and  deportment,  an  habitual  serious- 
ness, and  calm  solemnity,  as  the  face  of  Moses  was 
observed  to  shine  after  his  high  communion  in  the 
mount. 

The  exercises  of  his  mind,  in  the  different  stages 
of  conversion,  were  remarkable.     His  first  was  in 
18 


214  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

childhood,  at  the  time  of  an  awakening    in  his 
father's  congregation ;  when  he  was  for  many  months 
religiously  concerned,  careful  in  serious  duties,  and 
in  the  habit  of  praying  secretly  five  times  a  day. 
Yet  this  he  considered  not  genuine,  because  its  im- 
pressions passed  away,  and  were  not  renewed  until 
hehada  severe  fitof  sickness  at  college.  This  danger 
awakened  him  to  self-accusation,  terror  and  repen- 
tance, and  though  he  experienced  more  than  most 
Christians  do,  and  after  his  recovery  was  serious 
and  active  in  religion,  he  viewed  that  not  as  the 
time  of  his  saving  change,  but  as  a  step  in  the  grad- 
ual progress  to  a  happier  time,  when  to  use  his  own 
eloquent  description,  "  there  came  into  his  mind 
^weet  sense  of  the  glorious  majesty  and  grace  of 
^^^oH,  as  it  were  in  conjunction ;  majesty  and  meek- 
■  ^  ness  joined  together ;  a  sweet,  and  a  gentle,  and  an 
'*'  holy    majesty ;    a  majestic    meekness,  an    awful 
^vveohiess,  a  high,  and  a  great  and  holy  gentleness." 
]^  objections  to  the  sovereignty  of  God  were 
conqBered,  his  affections  sublimated,  and  even  a  new 
^       hue  given  to  the  face  of  Nature.     "  A.  calm,  sweet 
cast,  an  appearance  of  divine  glory,  an  excellency, 
wisdom,  purity  and  love,  seemed  to  shine  in  every 
thing,  in  the  sun,  moon  and  stars  ;  in  the  clouds 
and  blue  sky  ;  in  the  grass,  flowers  and  trees  ;  in 
the  water,  and  in  all  nature."     Even  his  natural 
tastes  and  antipathies  seemed  to  be  transformed,  he 
had  from  infancy  been  much  terrified  at  thunder,  and 
the  sight  of  a  rising  cloud  would  fill  him  with  unspeak- 
able dread.     But  then,  and  ever  afterwards,  a  thun- 
der storm  was  to  him  no   source  of  uneasiness  ; 
"  I  rejoiced,"  said  he,  "  at  its  appearance,  fixed 
myself  so  as  to  view  the  clouds,  to  see  the  light- 


/ 


REV.   JONATHAN    EDWARDS.  215 

nings  play,  and  to  hear  the  majestic  and  awful 
voice  of  God's  thunder,  which  led  me  to  sweet  con- 
templations, and  as  I  viewed,  it  always  seemed 
natural  to  me  to  sing  or  chant  forth  my  meditations  ; 
to  utter  my  thoughts  in  soliloquies,  and  with  a  sing- 
ing voice."  A  change  so  great  influenced  him  to 
the  close  of  life ;  a  religion  whose  principle  was 
love  seemed  to  actuate  him;  his  heait  was  alive 
and  susceptible  to  every  pious  emotion,  and  in  his 
line  of  duty,  and  sphere  of  action,  few  have  kept 
themselves  so  pure  and  unspotted  from  the  world. 
His  activity,  usefulness,  and  sincere  piety,  gained 
the  love  and  esteem  of  his  people,  and  in  their  expres- 
sions of  attachment  they  were  uncommonly  fre- 
quent and  fervent.  Those  who  visited  Northam|>» 
ton,  would  have  pronounced  it  impossible  for  hinn  t(^ 
have  been  rejected  or  opposed  by  his  parishioners  j 
yet  in  this  we  have  a  striking  lesson  of  the  uiuta- 
bihty  of  man,  and  the  afiairs  of  man.  It  had  been 
maintained  by  his  predecessor,  that  unconverted 
persons  should  be  admitted  to  the  ordinance  of 
the  Lord's  Supper,  though  they  make  no  pretensions 
to  real  holiness.  Upon  this  principle,  a  short  cove- 
nant was  framed,  and  many  admitted  to  the  church 
without  prerequisite  qualifications.  Many  years 
after  Mr.  Edwards'  settlement,  he  was  led  candidly 
to  examine  this  doctrine,  and  to  preceive  its  dan- 
gerous tendency.  But  the  avowal  of  his  sentiments, 
gave  great  offence ;  he  was  forbidden  to  preach  on 
the  subject,  and  what  he  pubhshed  was  neglected  or 
misconstrued.  Those  who  were  once  ready  to 
"  pluck  out  their  eyes  and  give  to  him,"  clamoured 
for  his  dismissal,  rejected  all  terms  of  accommoda- 
tion, and  when  the  summoned  ecclesiastical  council 


<C-r 


216  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

decreed  that  it  was  expedient  for  him  to  depart  if 
they  persisted  in  desiring  it,  zealously  voted  for  his 
dismission,  by  a  majority  of  two  hundred  and  twenty. 

A  part,  who  adhered  to  him  during  all  his  calami- 
ties, requested  that  he  would  still  continue  their  pas- 
tor, and  offered  to  support  him  ;  but  he  determined 
not  to  perpetuate  division,  among  those  whom  he 
had  loved  as  children,  and  chose  rather  to  suffer 
poverty  with  a  large  and  helpless  family  around  him. 

He  bade  them  farewell  in  a  most  solemn  and 
pathetic  discourse,  and  while  he  continued  there, 
occasionally  suppUed  the  pulpit,  when  no  other  min- 
ister could  be  procured,  until  great  uneasiness  was 
manifested,  and  the  whole  town  gathering  together, 
voted  that  he  should  preach  to  them  no  more. 
This  opposition  and  severe  treatment  was  a  great 
trial  to  so  tender  and  susceptible  a  heart ;  he  felt 
very  deeply  this  change  in  the  conduct  of  those 
who  had  once  manifested  so  much  esteem  and 
love,  for  whose  welfare  he  had  studied  and  labored, 
for  whom  he  had  poured  out  innumerable  fervent 
prayers ;  and  who  were  dearer  to  him  than  any 
people  under  heaven.  With  feeling  he  might 
adopt  the  words  of  the  Psalmist,  "  It  was  not  an 
enemy  that  reproached  me,  then  I  could  have  borne 
it ;  neither  was  it  he  that  hated  me  that  did  mag- 
nify himself  against  me;  but  it  was  thou  mine 
equal,  my  guide,  and  my  acquaintance  ;  we  took 
sweet  counsel  together,  and  walked  unto  the  house 
of  God  in  company." 

But  though  he  felt  the  pang  of  ingratitude  keenly, 
as  a  man,  he  suffered  it  meekly,  as  a  Christian. 
His  calm  sedateness,  and  deep  humility  amidst 
violent  opposition  and  injurious  treatment;  his  res- 
olution and  steady  conduct  throughout   the  whole 


REV.    JONATHAN    EDWARDS.  217 

of  that  dark  and  terrible  storm,  astonished  his  ene- 
mies, and  furnished  a  new  source  of  admiration  to 
those  who  had  been  in  Uie  habit  of  esteeming  and 
loving  this  excellent  man.  The  God  to  whom  he 
had  prayed  for  strength  and  direction,  evidently 
supported  him,  and  provided  for  his  necessities,  when 
earthly  friends  had  forsaken  him. 

A  short  time  after  this  sorrowful  and  surprising 
transaction,  he  was  appointed  to  succeed  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Sergeant,  in  his  mission  at  Stockbridge,  about 
sixty  miles  from  Northampton,  where  he  and  his 
family  were  comfortably  accommodated,  and  leisure 
given  him  to  pursue  his  beloved  studies.  Here  he 
made  swifter  advances  in  knowledge,  and  added 
more  to  his  manuscripts  than  he  had  ever  done  in 
the  same  term  of  time  before,  and  often  acknow- 
ledged the  tender  care  of  God  in  granting  him 
opportunity  to  finish  some  favorite  literary  \vorks» 
and  in  providing  him  such  a  peaceful  retreat,  ren- 
dered doubly  sweet  by  the  preceding  tempest. 

His  great  work  on  the  "  Freedom  of  the  Will," 
was  composed  here,  which  by  good  judges  is  con- 
sidered one  of  the  greatest  efforts  of  Ae  human 
mind  that  appeared  in  that  century.  Its  judgment, 
penetration,  and  accuracy  of  thought,  ranks  the 
author  among  the  most  exalted  geniuses  of  his  age. 
His  different  publications  were  between  twenty  and 
thirty,  beside  several  works  left  unfinished  at  the 
time  of  his  death,  and  ],400  miscellaneous  manu- 
scripts. When  we  look  at  the  number  of  his  per- 
formances, and  consider  the  delicacy  of  his  health, 
and  the  extent  of  his  professional  engagements,  we 
are  led  to  admire  his  strict  improvement  of  time, 
and  diligence  in  study,  and  are  astonished  that  even 
18* 


218  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

with  these  he  could  have  accomplished  so  much. 

In  this  retirement,  so  congenial  to  his  inclinations, 
and  favorable  to  his  pursuits,  he  was  interrupted  by 
an  invitation  from  Princeton,  New  Jersey,  to  accept 
of  the  government  of  their  college,  rendered  vacant 
by  the  death  of  his  son-in-law.  President  Burr.  Far 
from  being  elated  at  any  proposal  of  dignity  or 
emolument,  he  signified  his  desire  rather  to  remain 
in  a  retired  situation,  and  devote  himself  to  study, 
than  to  accept  an  office  for  which  his  great  humility 
led  him  to  think  himself  unqualified.  But  they  per- 
sisting in  their  request,  he  submitted  the  question  to 
a  counsel  of  ministers,  who  after  candid  examina- 
tion, determined  it  to  be  his  duty  to  accept  of  the 
offered  Presidency.  He  received  their  judgment 
with  a  flood  of  tears,  so  dear  was  that  little  spot  of 
retirement,  so  unambitious  was  he  of  worldly  dig- 
nity, and  so  true  is  it  that,  to  minds  like  his,  '  before 
honoris  humility.'  In  the  winter  of  1768,  he  began 
his  journey,  leaving  his  family  to  follow  in  the 
spring,  and  purposing  to  reside  till  their  arrival  with 
his  daughter,  the  widow  of  the  late  President  Burr. 

His  acceptance  of  the  appointment  gave  great 
satisfaction  to  the  college  and  inhabitants  of  Prince- 
ton, his  friends  in  Scotland  and  England  expressed 
their  warmest  congratulations  ;  and  he  himself  said, 
that  though  he  had  undertaken  the  office  with  much 
concern  and  fear,  he  had  received  such  visible  sup- 
ports from  God,  as  to  incline  him  to  believe  that 
he  was  in  the  way  of  his  duty.  He  preached  in 
the  college  hall  every  Sabbath,  to  the  edification 
of  many  hearers ;  and  as  President,  gave  out 
questions  in  divinity  to  the  senior  class,  to  be  an- 
swered before  him,  after  a  suitable  time  to  digest 


REV.    JONATHAN    EDWARDS.  219 

and  write  their  thoughts.  They  found  so  much 
pleasure  in  the  exercise,  and  so  much  light  and 
instruction  from  his  comments,  that  they  spoke  of 
it  with  a  mixture  of  astonishment  and  delight. 

When  President  Edwards  arrived  at  Princeton, 
he  found  the  small  pox  prevailed  among  the  inhabi- 
tants ;  and  by  the  advice  of  his  physician,  and  con- 
sent of  the  corporation  of  college,  was  inoculated 
a  few  weeks  after  he  came  among  them.  The 
disease  appeared  to  terminate  favorably  ;  but  a  sec- 
ondary fever  seized  him,  which  raged  in  defiance  of 
all  medicine,  until  it  put  a  period  to  his  life,  on  the 
22d  of  March,  1753,  in  the  66th  year  of  his  age, 
just  two  months  after  he  had  parted  from  his  belov- 
ed family  at  Stockbridge,  whom  God  had  ordained 
should  see  his  face  no  more.  When  he  perceived 
his  disease  would  prove  mortal,  he  said  to  his 
daughter  who  attended  him,  "  My  dear  Lucy,  it 
seems  to  me  to  be  the  will  of  God,  that  I  should  short- 
ly leave  you,  therefore  give  my  kindest  love  to  my 
dear  wife,  and  tell  her  that  the  uncommon  union 
that  has  so  long  subsisted  between  us,  has  been  of 
such  a  nature  as  I  trust  is  spiritual,  and  therefore 
will  continue  forever,  and  I  hope  she  will  be  sup- 
ported under  so  great  a  trial,  and  submit  cheerfully 
to  the  will  of  God.  And  as  to  my  children,  you 
are  now  likely  to  be  left  fatherless,  which  I  hope 
will  be  an  inducement  to  you  all  to  seek  a  father 
who  will  never  fail  you.  And  as  to  my  funeral,  I 
would  have  it  without  ostentation,  like  Mr.  Burr's, 
and  any  additional  sum  of  money,  that  might  be 
expected  to  be  laid  out  that  way,  I  would  have  dis- 
posed of  in  charitable  uses." 

As  he  breathed  his  last,  some  persons  who  sur- 


220  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

rounded  his  bed  were  lamenting  his  death,  as  a  great 
judgment  on  the  college,  and  bearing  a  dark  aspect 
on  tlie  interests  of  religion  in  general,  when  to 
their  great  surprise,  he  whom  they  supposed  to  be 
senseless,  and  lamented  as  dead,  spoke  to  them 
distinctly — "  Trust  in  God,  and  ye  need  not  fear." 
These  were  his  last  words  ;  and  surely  they  are 
memorable  ;  for  to  those  Eu-ound  him  they  appeared 
as  if  uttered  from  the  dead.  Thus  fell  a  great  and 
a  good  man,  of  whom  to  record  the  truth  is  his  best 
praise. 

The  physician  who  constantly  attended  him,  has 
the  following  words  in  a  letter  to  his  widowed  con- 
sort. "  Never  did  any  man  more  clearly  evince  the 
sincerity  of  his  professions,  by  one  continued,  calm, 
cheerful  resignation,  and  patient  submission  to  the 
divine  will,  through  every  stage  of  his  disease,  than 
he.  Not  so  much  as  one  discontented  expression, 
or  the  least  appearance  of  murmuring,  throughout 
the  whole.  And  never  did  any  person  expire  with 
more  perfect  freedom  from  pain  :  not  so  much  as 
one  distorted  hair,  but  in  the  most  proper  sense 
of  the  words,  he  readily /e/i  asleefJ" 


DR.  SAMUEL  JOHNSON. 


Samuel  Johnson,  a  literary  character  of  the 
highest  rank,  was  born  at  Litchfield,  (Eng.)  Sep- 
tember 7, 1709.  His  father  was  a  repu- 
1709.  table  bookseller ;  his  mother  a  woman  of 
great  piety  and  understanding,  who  early 
instilled  the  principles  of  religion  into  his  mind. 
He  exhibited  strong  marks  of  genius  in  the  free 
school  at  Litchfield,  where  he  received  the  chief  part 
of  his  education,  and  some  of  his  exercises  which 
were  accidentally  preserved,  justify  the  expectations 
which  determined  a  father,  not  opulent,  to  train  him 
in  the  paths  of  literature.  After  passing  a  part  of 
his  youth,  at  home,  in  voluntary  and  desultory 
study,  he  entered  as  a  commoner  at  Oxford,  in  his 
19th  year.  Oppressed  by  pecuniary  difficulties,  he 
was  compelled  to  make  a  short,  and  an  interrupted 
residence  at  the  university,  and  in  the  autumn  of 
1731,  gave  it  up  as  impracticable,  after  having 
struggled  as  long  as  possible  with  severe  indigence, 
and  the  insolvency  of  his  father. 

After  he  quitted  the  university,  he  remained  at 
Litchfield,  till  the  death  of  his  father,  devoting  his 
time  to  literary  improvements.  At  the  age  of  26, 
he  married  Elizabeth  Porter,  a  widow  of  Birming- 
ham, and  fitted  up  a  house  in  Eclial,  near  Litchfield, 


222  BIOGKAPIIV    OF    PIOL^S    PERSONS. 

where  he  undertook  to  keep  a  school,  but  was  oblig- 
ed to  resign  the  employment  for  want  of  encourage- 
ment. Two  years  after,  he  made  his  first  expedi- 
tion to  London,  to  try  the  fortune  of  his  talents  in 
that  great  field  of  exertion.  He  soon  found  him- 
self reduced  to  the  necessity  of  writing  for  a  sub- 
sistence, and  his  principal  employment  for  several 
years,  was  that  of  writing  for  the  editor  of  the  Gen- 
tleman's Magazine.  He  felt  keenly  the  bitterness 
of  dependance,  and  the  vexations  of  authorship, 
and  for  a  long  time  supported  himself  upon  the 
scanty  pittance  of  four  pence  half  penny  a  day ! 
How  little  is  sufficient  to  subsist  the  animal  part  of 
man ! — and  how  often  are  genius  and  talents  over- 
looked and  forgotten ! 

Soon  after  he  published  a  tragedy,  and  a  poem  in 
imitation  of  Juvenal's  third  satire  ;  and  in  1737,  be- 
gan an  edition  of  Shakespeare,  and  published  tho 
plan  of  his  English  Dictionary.  To  enable  him  to 
complete  this  last  stupendous  work,  be  hired  a  house, 
fitted  up  a  large  upper  room  in  the  form  of  a  count- 
ing house,  and  employed  six  amanuenses.  On  the 
20th  of  March,  1750,  he  pubhshed  the  first  paper  of 
his  "  Rambler,"  which  he  continued  twice  a  week, 
without  interruption,  for  two  years.  In  this  very 
excellent  work,  he  proceeded  almost  without  assist- 
ance ;  only  five  papers  in  the  whole  having  been 
supplied  by  other  writers.  With  what  devout  and 
conscientious  sentiments  he  undertook  this  paper, 
is  evidenced  by  the  following  solemn  address  to  the 
Divine  Being,  which  he  composed  and  solemnly  of- 
fered up  at  its  commencement. 

"  Almighty  God !  the  giver  of  all  good  things ; 
without  whose  help  all  labor  is  ineffectual,  and  with- 


DR.    SAMUKL   JOHNSON.  223 

out  whose  grace  all  wisdom  is  folly  ;  grant,  I  be- 
seech thee,  that  in  this  undertaking,  thine  Holy 
Spirit  may  not  be  withheld  from  me,  but  that  I  may 
promote  thy  glory,  and  the  salvation  of  myself  and 
others ;  grant  this,  O  Lord,  for  the  sake  of  thy  son 
Jesus  Christ.     Amen." 

The  concluding  paragraph  of  his  farewell  paper 
in  the  Rambler,  appears  to  have  been  written  under 
a  persuasion  that  the  Deity  had  been  propitious  to 
his  labor,  and  that  the  solemn  address  which  he 
had  presented  before  him,  on  his  first  engaging  in 
it,  had  been  heard  and  accepted.  ''  The  essays 
professedly  serious,  if  I  have  been  able  to  execute 
my  own  intentions,  will  be  found  exactly  conforma- 
ble to  the  precepts  of  Christianity,  without  any  ac- 
commodation to  the  licentiousness  and  levity  of  the 
present  age.  I  therefore  look  back  on  this  part  of 
my  work  with  pleasure,  which  no  praise  of  man 
shall  diminish  or  augment.  I  shall  never  envy  the 
honors  which  wit  and  learning  obtain  in  any  other 
cause,  if  I  can  be  numbered  among  the  writers  who 
have  given  ardor  to  virtue,  and  confidence  to  truth. 

"  Celestial  Powers  !  that  piety  regard  ; 
From  you  my  labors  wait  their  last  reward." 

Soon  after  the  publication  of  the  Rambler,  John- 
son's wife  died.  This  event  afiected  him  in  the 
deepest  manner;  and  the  morbid  melancholy  to 
which  he  was  constitutionally  subject,  acquired  addi- 
tional force.  In  his  volume  of  "  Prayers  and  Med- 
itations," we  find  very  remarkable  evidence  that  his 
strong  afiection  for  her  never  ceased,  even  after  her 
death. 


224  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

In  May,  1755,  he  completed  and  published  his 
Dictionary,  having  proceeded  in  this  astonishing 
work,  with  little  assistance  from  the  learned,  and  no 
patronage  from  the  great ;  and  erected  for  posterity 
a  durable  monument  of  the  profundity  of  his  know- 
ledge, and  versatility  of  his  genius. 

Notwithstanding  this  great  man's  various  and  ex- 
cellent publications,  he  continued  in  a  state  of  pov- 
erty, until  the  royal  bounty,  in  1762,  raised  him 
above  the  reach  of  want,  by  a  pension  of  300/.  a 
year,  given  expressly  as  a  reward  for  the  merit  and 
moral  tendency  of  his  writings.  Two  years  after, 
he  instituted,  and  ever  assisted  to  support,  "  The 
Literary  Club,"  which  was  a  stated  meeting  of  sev- 
eral men  of  high  intellectual  powers.  His  superior 
talents  made  his  company  highly  acceptable,  to  eve- 
ry rank  of  the  witty,  the  elegant,  and  the  wise.  His 
peculiarities  were  lost  and  forgotten  in  the  admira- 
tion of  his  understanding,  while  his  virtues  were  re- 
garded with  veneration,  and  his  opinions  copied  with 
submission.  The  same  energy  of  mind  which  was 
displayed  in  his  literary  productions  exhibited  itself 
in  his  conversation,  which  was  various,  striking  and 
instructive.  His  reputation  began  to  extend,  and 
his  fame  to  be  established  ;  and  the  universities  of 
Dublin  and  Oxford  sent  him  an  honorary  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Laws.  At  different  periods  he  contin- 
ued to  pubhsh  works  of  various  descriptions,  but 
agreeing  in  their  ultimate  tendency  to  diffuse  know- 
ledge, morality  and  religion.  His  last  production  of 
consequence  was  "  The  Lives  of  the  Poets,"  of 
which  he  says  in  a  previous  memorandum,  "  written, 
I  hope,  in  such  a  manner  as  may  tend  to  the  promo- 
tion of  piety." 


DR.    SAMUEL    JOHNSON.  225 

His  charity  to  the  poor  was  constant  and  exten- 
sive, and  he  performed  many  acts  of  the  most  disin- 
terested benevolence.  In  his  dealings,  he  was 
strictly  just  and  conscientious,  and  trembled  at  the 
thought  of  defrauding  another,  even  in  the  most  tri- 
fling instance.  Hearing,  near  the  close  of  his  life, 
that  his  father  had  died  indebted  lo  a  certain  book- 
seller for  the  sum  of  30  pounds,  he  diligently 
sought  out  his  descendant,  and  left  him  in  his  will 
200  pounds,  that  injustice  might  not  rest  upon  the 
memory  of  his  father.  In  his  attention  to  veracity, 
even  in  the  most  trivial  assertion,  "  he  was,"  says  an 
intimate  acquaintance,  "  without  equal  or  example." 
From  the  slightest  to  the  most  solemn  narration,  he 
was  strict  even  to  severity,  and  scorned  to  embel- 
lish a  story  with  the  least  fictitious  circumstance. 
"  A  story,"  he  would  say,  "  should  be  a  specimen  of 
hfe  and  manners  ;  if  the  surrounding  circumstances 
are  false,  it  is  no  longer  a  representation  of  reality, 
and  no  more  a  subject  of  attention." 

His  piety  was  exemplary  and  edifying  ;  he  was 
punctiliously  exact  to  perform  every  public  duty  en- 
joined by  the  church,  and  his  spirit  of  devotion  had 
an  energy  that  atfected  all  who  ever  heard  him  pray  in 
private.  The  coldest  and  most  languid  hearers  of 
the  word  felt  themselves  anirijatcd  by  his  manner  of 
reading  the  holy  scriptures,  and  to  pray  by  his  sick 
bed  required  great  strength  and  firmness  of  mind, 
so  vehement  were  his  manners  and  his  tones  of  voice 
so  pathetic.  He  was  a  warm  and  able  advocate  for 
the  truth  of  the  Christian  rehgion,  and  expressed  his 
aversion  to  infidelity  at  all  times  without  the  smallest 
reserve  ;  for  no  honest  man,  he  would  say,  can  be 
19 


226  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

a  deist,  after  a  fair  examination  of  the  proofs  of 
Christianity. 

In  his  personal  appearance,  he  was  neither  beau- 
tiful or  agreeable,  yet  his  countenance  when  com- 
posed was  contemplative  and  awful.  It  was  capa- 
ble of  great  expression,  both  in  respect  to  intelli- 
gence and  mildness,  particularly  when  in  the  glow 
of  conversation,  or  under  the  influence  of  grateful 
feelings  ;  for  his  soul  was  susceptible  of  gratitude, 
and  of  every  kind  emotion.  His  mind  was  so  com- 
prehensive, that  no  language  but  his  own  could  have 
translated  its  contents  ;  and  so  ponderous  was  that 
language,  that  sentiments  less  solid,  or  less  lofty, 
would  have  been  encumbered,  not  adorned  by  it. 

This  great  and  excellent  man  frequently  felt  the 
indispositions  and  pains  annexed  to  a  life  of  labori- 
ous study,  and  in  the  summer  of  1783,  was  attack- 
ed, during  the  night,  with  a  paralytic  stroke,  which 
deprived  hirn  of  the  powers  of  speech.  Finding 
himself  unable  to  articulate  a  syllable,  he  wrote  thus 
to  a  neighboring  confidential  friend. — "  Dear  Sir, 
it  hath  pleased  Alnjighty  God,  this  morning  to  de- 
prive me  of  the  power  of  speech  ;  and  as  I  do  not 
know  but  it  might  be  his  further  good  pleasure  to 
deprive  me  soon  of  my  senses,  I  request  you  will, 
ou  the  receipt  of  this  note,  come  to  me,  and  act  for 
me,  as  the  exigencies  of  my  case  may  require." 

Among  the  legacies  of  his  last  will  and  testament, 
he  left  the  sum  of  70  pounds  a  year,  to  his  faithful 
negro  man  servant,  who  was  often  the  subject  of 
his  prayers,  and  of  his  dying  exhortations.  From 
this  severe  shock  he  seemed  in  a  few  months  al- 
most entirely  to  recover,  but  in  the  conclusion  of  the 
yeaf  1784,  he  was  seized  with  the  dropsy  in  such  a 


DR.    SAMUEL    JOHNSON.  227 

manner  as  to  leave  his  friends  little  hope  of  his  re- 
covery. At  times  he  labored  under  a  mental  depres- 
sion and  agitation,  and  at  intervals  possessed  his 
usual  flow  of  spirits,  and  composure  of  soul.  He 
insisted  that  his  physician  should  tell  him  candidly 
of  his  situation,  and  when  he  answered  that  "  from 
the  complication  of  his  disorders,  and  his  advanced 
state  of  life,  there  could  be  little  hope,  except  from 
miracles,"  he  listened  with  firmness,  thanked  him, 
and  said  he  would  endeavor  to  compose  himself  (or 
the  approaching  scene.  To  each  of  his  three  phy- 
sicians he  gave  a  copy  of  his  "  Lives  of  the  Poets," 
as  a  testimony  of  affectionate  remembrance,  and 
then,  realizing  the  fallacy  of  medicine  to  one  so  near 
the  grave,  persisted  in  taking  no  more  op'stes,  "  for 
I  have  prayed,"  said  he,  "  that  I  may  resign  my  soul 
to  God  unclouded." 

For  some  time  before  his  death  he  received  the 
sacrament  two  or  three  times  in  each  week,  with 
great  humility  and  solemnity.  An  intimate  friend 
one  day  entered  his  room,  just  after  this  affecting 
ceremony  :  >'  Oh !  my  Iriend,"  exclaimed  he,  "  I 
have  owed  you  many  obligations  through  my  life, 
but  they  will  all  be  more  than  amply  repaid  by  your 
taking  this  most  important  advice  ;  be  a  good  Chris- 
tian." His  fears  were  all  calmed  and  absorbed  by  the 
prevalence  of  his  faith,  and  his  trust  in  the  merits 
and  propitiation  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  to  those  about 
him  he  often  dwelt  upon  the  necessitj  of  faith  in 
that  great  sacrifice.  To  his  affectionate  black  ser- 
vant he  often  said,  "  attend,  Francis,  to  the  salvation 
of  your  soul,  which  is  the  object  of  greatest  impor- 
tance ;"  and  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  explaining 
to  him  passages  of  Scripture,  and  giving  him  religious 


228  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

instruction.  Cherishing  thus  in  his  mind  the  trae 
Christian  scheme,  both  rational  and  consolatory, 
uniting  justice  and  mercy  in  the  Divinity,  with  the 
improvement  of  human  nature,  while  the  holy  sacra- 
ment was  celebrated  in  his  apartment,  he  fervently 
uttered  this  prayer. 

"  Almighty  God,  and  njost  merciful  Father,  I  am 
now,  as  to  human  eyes  it  seems,  about  to  comme- 
morate for  the  last  time  the  death  of  thy  son  Jesus 
Christ,  our  Saviour  and  Redeemer.  Grant,  0 
Lord,  that  my  whole  hope  and  confidence  may  be  in 
his  merits  and  thy  mercy  ;  enforce  and  accept  my 
imperfect  repentance ;  make  this  commemoration 
available  to  the  confirmation  of  my  faith,  the  estab- 
lishment of  my  hope,  and  the  enlargement  of  my 
charity  ;  and  make  the  death  of  thy  son  Jesus 
Christ  effectual  to  my  redemption.  Have  mercy 
upon  me,  and  pardon  the  multitude  of  my  offences. 
Bless  my  friends ;  have  mercy  upon  all  men  :  sup- 
port me  by  thine  Holy  Spirit  in  the  days  of  weak- 
ness, and  at  the  hour  of  death ;  and  receive  me, 
after  death,  to  everlasting  happiness,  for  the  sake  of 
Jesus  Christ. — Amen." 

The  night  before  his  death  he  suffered  great 
distress,  but  vyas  perfectly  composed  ;  steady  in 
hope,  and  resigned  to  death.  At  the  interval  of 
every  hour,  his  attendants  assisted  him  to  sit  up  in 
his  bed,  and  to  move  his  limbs,  which  were  incredibly 
swollen,  and  in  much  pain.  At  these  times,  he 
regularly  addressed  himself  to  fer\'ent  prayer,  and 
though  sometimes  his  voice  failed  him,  his  senses 
continued  perfect,  and  his  recollection  unbroken. 
He  said  his  mind  was  prepared,  and  the  time  to  his 
dissolution  seemed  long.     At  six  in  the  morning  ho 


DR.    SAMUEL    JOHNSON.  229 

inquired  the  hour,  and  on  being  informed,  said  that 
all  went  on  regularly,  and  he  fielt  he  had  but  a  few 
hours  to  Uve.  No  man  could  appear  more  collected, 
more  devout,  or  less  terrified  at  that  awful  moment 
which  comes  to  all.  A  little  before  his  last  moment, 
the  daughter  of  a  particular  friend  of  his,  called,  and 
earnestly  entreated  permission  to  see  him,  that  she 
might  beg  him  to  give  her  his  last  blessing.  Being 
told  who  stood  near  him,  he  turned  himself  in  his 
bed,  and  said  "  God  bless  you — my  dear." 

This  was  his  last  action,  these  were  his  last  words ; 
full  of  benevolence  and  devotion.  His  difficulty  of 
breathing  increased  till  about  seven  in  the  evening, 
when  two  friends  who  were  sitting  in  the  room, 
observing  that  the  sound  of  his  respiration  had 
ceased,  drew  his  curtains  ;  but  nothing  was  there 
save  a  breathless  mass  of  clay, — a  countenance 
pale  and  tranquil,  and  a  heart  no  longer  agitated  with 
mortal  suffering.  The  many  who  had  loved  and 
revered  him  in  life,  hasted  to  do  him  honor  at  his 
death  ;  and  seven  days  after  his  decease,  his  re- 
mains were  deposited  in  Westminster  Abbey,  and 
covered  with  a  stone  bearing  this  inscription. — 

Samuel  Johnson,  L.L.  D. 

Obiit  13  die  Decembris, 

Anno  Domini 

1784. 
^tatis  SHOE.  75. 

An  appropriate  monument  now  marks  the  spot 
where  his  ashes  repose,  but  he  has  erected  for 
himself  a  more  durable  monument,  in  the  reverence 
of  posterity,  and  has  obtained,  we  trust,  a  more 
noble  mansion  in  the  "  house  not  made  with  hands." 
19* 


REV.  GEORGE  WHITEFIELD. 


He  was  the  son  of  Thomas  Whitefield,  and  Eliz- 
abeth Edwards,  was  the  youngest  of  seven  children, 

and  born  at  Gloucester,  (England)  De- 
1714.       cember  16th,  1714.     When  a  child  of 

two  years  old,  he  was  deprived  of  his 
father ;  but  his  mother,  by  her  assiduity  and  tender- 
ness, endeavored  to  supply  that  early  and  afflicting 
loss.  His  progress  at  school  was  commendable, 
particularly  between  the  years  of  12  and  15,  when 
he  proceeded  rapidly  in  the  Latin  Classics  ;  but  the 
bent  of  his  genius  was  towards  eloquence,  which 
was  observable  during  the  first  dawning  of  reason. 
At  17,  he  became  a  devout  communicant  at  the 
Lord's  table,  spent  a  great  part  of  his  time  in  reli- 
gious reading,  prayer,  fasting,  and  the  appointed  or- 
dinances, so  that  his  thoughts  seemed  constantly 
exercised  respecting  the  great  truths  of  salvation. 
The  following  year  he  entered  the  University  of 
Oxford,  and  finding  serious  and  practical  piety  in  a 
very  low  state  among  the  established  denominations, 
he  cultivated  an  acquaintance  with  the  Methodists, 
then  a  new  sect,  who  seemed  to  display  more  of  the 
spirit  and  power  of  religion. 

He  was  treated  by  (hem  with  particular  kindness, 
and  received  so  much  benefit  from  the  preaching 


REV.    GEORGE    WHITEFIELD.  231 

and  friendship  of  the  Rev.  Charles  Wesley,  that 
he  used  to  call  him  his  spiritual  father.  lie  now 
began  to  divide  his  time  methodically,  and  labor  to 
improve  every  moment  to  the  best  advantage  ; — he 
visited  the  sick,  and  the  prisoners,  read  to  the  poor, 
and  received  the  communion  every  Sabbath.  For 
daring  to  bo  thus  singularly  religious,  he  incurred 
the  hatred  of  his  fellow-students,  and  daily  felt  the 
effects  of  their  unkind  behaviour.  ,  At  his  return 
from  the  university,  he  preferred  the  sacred  writings 
to  all  other  books,  and  from  perusing  them  with 
constant  prayer,  found  unspeakable  delight  and  ad- 
vantage. He  read  three  times  a  week  to  the  poor 
people  of  the  town,  prayed  with  the  prisoners  in  the 
county  gaol  every  day,  and  by  his  conversation  and 
prayers  awakened  many  minds. 

At  the  age  of  21,  after  much  previous  meditation 
and  prayer,  he  passed  through  the  solemnities  of 
ordination,  and  at  his  first  sermon  in  London  his  ap- 
pearance of  extreme  youth  excited  the  wonder  of 
the  audience,  and  many  sneered  to  see  a  stripling  in 
a  gown,  ascend  the  pulpit.  But  he  had  not  proceed- 
ed far  in  his  discourse,  before  their  smiles  gave 
place  to  attention,  and  their  contempt  was  turned 
into  reverence.  The  Spirit  of  God  gave  a  blessing 
to  his  earliest  attempts,  and  those  who  mocked,  sent 
a  complaint  to  his  ordaining  Bishop,  that  he  "  had 
dnven  fifteen  mad  with  his  first  sermon."  He  con- 
tinued to  spend  his  time  diligently  and  methodicfilly  ; 
dividing  every  day  into  three  parts  ;  eight  for  sleep 
and  meals ;  eight  for  public  prayers,  catechising  and 
visiting  ;  and  eight  for  study  and  retirement  His 
general  rule  was  to  preach  nine  times  •  in  a  week, 
and  sometimes  four  times  on  the  Lord's  day,  and  ad- 


232  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

minister  the  sacrament  so  early  in  the  morning,  that 
the  streets  were  seen  filled  with  people,  hastening 
to  church  with  lanthoms  in  their  hands,  and  conver- 
sing on  the  things  of  God. 

"UTien  he  preached,  the  largest  churches  were 
scarcely  able  to  contain  the  audience  ;  some  would 
hang  upon  the  railing,  others  climb  up  to  the  leads 
of  the  building,  while  the  church  would  be  so  heated 
with  their  breath,  that  the  steam  was  seen  to  fall 
from  the  pillars  like  drops  of  rain.  But  with  his 
popularity,  opposition  and  the  hatred  of  envy,  sprung 
up  also,  like  tares  among  the  wheat.  Yet  he  found 
comfort  in  the  midst  of  discouragement  from  the 
exercise  of  prayer,  and  when  his  strength  was  ex- 
hausted by  the  labors  of  the  day,  would  continue  in 
this  duty,  even  till  midnight ; — and  once  spent  a 
whole  night  with  a  few  associates,  entreating  for  the 
advancement  of  the  gospel,  and  praising  God. 
About  this  time  he  received  an  invitation  to  go  to 
America,  which  agreed  with  his  wishes.  But  when 
in  prospect  of  his  departure,  he  mentioned  in  a  dis- 
course, "  it  might  be  they  would  see  his  face  no 
more,"  the  whole  congregation  burst  into  a  violent 
flood  of  tears.  Multitudes  followed  him  home 
weeping,  and  the  next  day  he  was  employed  from 
seven  in  the  morning  till  midnight,  in  advising,  en- 
couraging and  directing  inquiring  souls. 

As  the  time  of  his  embarkation  approached,  they 
grew  still  more  affectionate  and  sorrowful  ;  and 
would  run  and  stop  him  in  the  alleys  with  wishful 
looks,  and  eyes  streaming  with  tears.  The  night 
before  his  departure  he  spent  in  prayer,  administer- 
ed the  Sacrament  in  the  morning  to  his  afflicted 
friends,  and  after  an  almost  insupportable  parting, 


REV.    GEORGE    WHITEFIELD.  233 

left  his  native  country.  He  found  the  crew  of  the 
ship  in  which  he  sailed,  very  blasphemous  and  aban- 
doned, and  the  officers  gave  him  to  understand  that 
they  viewed  him  as  an  impostor,  and  should  treat 
him  as  such.  But  so  great  was  his  perseverance  in 
the  duties  of  his  office,  such  his  patience,  mildness, 
and  firmness  in  declaring  the  truth,  and  such  the  di- 
vine blessing  on  his  prayers,  that  many  were  brought 
to  consider  and  reform,  and  the  whole  crew  were 
led  to  attend  every  day  with  great  solemnity,  to 
preaching,  exposition  and  prayer.  They  now  exhib- 
ited the  regidarity  of  a  church,  and  he  returned  ma- 
ny thanks  for  this  voyage,  which  in  its  beginning 
was  so  unpromising. 

At  his  arrival  in  Georgia,  he  found  every  appear- 
ance of  a  suffering  mfant  colony.  But  he  was  re- 
ceived with  great  kindness  and  cordiaUty,  and  after 
preaching  and  instructing  them,  and  projecting  the 
plan  of  a  future  Orphan-house,  returned  to  England. 
Here  he  found  opposition  assuming  a  new  and  for- 
midable face.  He  was  ridiculed  as  a  Methodist, 
and  access  denied  him  to  many  pulpits.  He  began 
at  this  time  to  preach  without  notes,  in  the  open  air, 
and  his  audience  sometimes  amounted  to  20  and 
30,000.  Having  a  remarkably  strong,  audible 
voice,  he  rendered  himself  perfectly  understood  by 
the  most  remote  parts  of  the  congregation,  and  was 
frequently  heard  at  the  distjmce  of  a  mile.  He 
sometimes  encountered  insults  and  danger,  but  he 
counted  not  his  life  dear  unto  him.  Though  he 
might  have  lived  in  ease  and  affluence,  still  he  wan- 
dered from  place  to  place,  stood  and  preached  at 
bowling  greens,  market  places  and  highways,  heard 
himself  blamed  by  friends,  and  reviled  by  enemies, 


234  BIOGftAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

yet  inwardly  supported,  he  endured  all  things  joy- 
fully. After  making  frequent  collections  tor  his 
Intended  orphan-house,  he  returned  to  Georgia,  and 
on  the  25th  of  March,  1740,  laid  the  first  stone  of 
the  building,  which  he  called  Bethesda,  the  house 
of  mercy.  He  received  forty  orphans,  provided 
them  with  food  and  raiment,  and  employed  a  large 
number  of  workmen,  so  that  his  family  amounted  to 
nearly  a  hundred. 

He  travelled  through  a  great  part  of  the  United 
States,  and  though  in  a  very  ill  state  of  health, 
preached  with  great  vigor  and  success.  Three 
times  a  day  he  was  lifted  on  his  horse,  unable  to 
mount  otherwise,  then  rode  and  preached,  and  when 
he  came  into  a  house,  would  lay  himself  down  on 
two  or  three  chairs.  This  course,  he  acknow- 
ledged, would  soon  take  him  to  his  desired  rest. 

After  passing  through  New  England,  awakening 
many,  and  causing  many  to  rejoice,  he  visited  his 
orphan-house,  returned  to  England,  and  began  his 
circuits  through  Scotland,  and  Wales,  where  his 
success  in  converting  sinners  and  quickening  saints, 
was  almost  unparalleled.  He  felt  it  his  incumbent 
duty,  to  travel  from  kingdom  to  kingdom,  and  from 
continent  to  continent,  publishing  the  everlasting 
gospel  of  the  grace  of  God.  Hardships,  trials, 
and  dangers  awaited  him,  but  he  bore  them  like  a 
good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ.  Once,  while  preach- 
ing in  Moorfields,  during  the  holiday  seasons,  the 
leaders  of  the  customary  diversions,  enraged  to  find 
their  usually  attendant  throngs  collected  to  hear  him, 
engaged  a  merry-andrew  to  mount  upon  a  man's 
shoulders,  and  with  a  long  heavy  whip  annoy  the 
speaker.     But  he  continued  his  sermon  notwith- 


REV.    GEORGE    WUITEFIELO.  235 

standing  blows  ;  they  then  sent  a  recruiting  sergeant 
with  his  drum,  to  pass  through  the  congregation. 
"  Make  way  for  the  king's  officer,"  said  the  unagi- 
tated  preacher,  and  the  crowd  quietly  moved  for 
him  to  pass.  The  owners  of  the  booths,  enraged 
to  desperation,  collected  a  large  mob,  and  came  on 
in  a  most  threatening  manner,  with  drums,  and  war- 
like instruments  to  attack  the  congregation.  But 
they  maintained  their  ground,  and  \N  hitefield  prayed 
earnestly  for  support  and  deliverance,  when  lo  !  the 
ferocious  party  quarrelled  among  themselves,  threw 
down  their  standard  and  retired,  while  the  successful 
saint  continued  for  three  hours  to  instruct  and  pray 
with  an  attentive  and  weeping  multitude. 

At  Plymouth,  he  was  attacked  at  midnight  in 
his  bed,  by  a  soldier  who  pretended  to  come  to  con- 
verse with  hirn  about  religion,  but  who  previously 
laid  a  wager  of  ten  guineas  that  he  dared  to  murder 
him.  But  God  preserved  him  from  the  hand  of 
the  murderer  and  also  from  the  fury  of  the  Roman 
Catholics  in  Ireland,  who,  following  him  as  he  re- 
turned from  preaching,  poured  upon  him  vollies  of 
stones  from  all  quarters,  and  made  him  reel  back- 
ward and  forwards,  till  he  was  almost  breathless.  A 
soldier  and  four  preachers,  who  attended  him,  fled, 
and  left  him  to  walk  alone  through  hundreds  of  enrag- 
ed papists.  He  received  many  wounds,  particularly  a 
large  one  near  his  temples : — "  I  thought  then  of  Ste- 
phen," said  he,  "  and  hoped  to  go,  like  him,  in  that 
bloody  triumph,  to  the  immediate  presence  of  my 
Master."  Speechless,  and  covered  with  blood, 
he  was  at  length  received  into  the  house  of  a  min- 
itster,  where  his  wounds  were  washed,  and  his  faint- 
ing liie  restored. 


236  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

God  had  still  more  work  for  him  to  do,  and  witii 
renewed  ardor  he  engaged  in  his  service.  He  was 
frequently  brought  low  with  illness ;  but  nothing 
damped  his  resolution.  "  Spare  not  the  weak  bo- 
dy," he  writes  to  a  friend,  "  we  are  immortal  till 
our  work  is  done.  O !  for  power  equal  to  my  will ! 
I  would  fly  from  pole  to  pole,  publishing  the  ever- 
lasting gospel  of  the  Son  of  God."  When  he  was 
not  engaged  in  preaching  or  prayer,  or  composing 
religious  works,  or  visiting  the  distressed,  or  coun- 
selling the  inquiring,  his  mind  was  occupied  in  chari- 
table and  benevolent  plans.  Many  poor  were  re- 
lieved by  his  liberality,  many  widows  supported,  and 
his  Georgia  Orphan  house,  whose  expenses  were 
incredible,  was  converted  by  his  perseverance  into 
an  extensive,  beautiful ,  and  permanent  institution. 
This  man  was  indeed  a  sign  and  wonder  in  the 
earth.  Who  that  knows  the  danger  of  frequently 
and  violently  straining  the  lungs,  especially  in  youth, 
who  that  understands  the  delicacy  of  their  struc- 
ture, would  suppose  it  possible,  that  a  man  for  the 
space  of  more  than  thirty  years,  should  speak 
in  the  compass  of  a  single  week,  forty  and  often 
sixty  hours  to  many  thousands,  and  after  this  labor 
instead  of  taking  rest  should  be  ofi'eruig  up  prayers, 
intercessions,  and  hymns,  not  only  in  private,  but 
at  every  house  where  he  was  invited.  Yet  he  con- 
tinued to  proclaim  with  earnestness,  "  Repent  ye, 
for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand,"  not  only  in 
every  part  of  England,  but  in  Wales,  Scotland, 
Ireland,  in  the  Bermudas  and  America,  from  Geor- 
gia to  Boston.  In  journeyings  often,  in  perils  of 
robbers,  in  perils  of  his  own  countrymen,  in  tlie 
city,  in  the  wilderness,  on  the  ocean,  among  ene- 


REV.    GEOUGB    WHITEFIELD.  237 

mies,  among  false  brethren,  in  weariness,  pain  and 
weakness,  he  approved  himself  a  faithful  minister 
of  Christ.  In  the  autumn  of  1769,  he  embarked 
the  last  time  for  America,  and  prepared  to  crosg 
the  Atlantic  the  thirteenth  time.  His  afflicted 
friends  breakfasted  with  him  in  the  ship  on  the  mor- 
ning of  his  departure.  "  Oh,"  said  he,  "  what  mean 
you,  thus  to  weep  and  break  my  heart  ?"  At  his 
arrival  he  found  his  orphan-house  in  a  flourishing 
situation,  and  went  on  still  to  beautify  and  improve 
it,  calculating  to  connect  with  it  an  Academy  and 
College.  The  Governor,  Council  and  Assembly 
of  Georgia,  being  invited  to  visit  it  and  attend  di- 
vine service  in  its  chapel,  expressed  their  admira- 
tion and  gratitude  in  the  warmest  terms  to  its  Bene- 
factor. 

In  the  summer  of  1770,  he  left  his  beloved 
Bethesda  to  journey  northward,  calculating  to  return 
to  it  when  the  cool  season  commenced ;  but  God, 
who  seeth  not  as  man  seeth,  had  decreed  that  he 
should  return  thither  no  more.  He  writes,  "  Preach-" 
•ing  is  my  catholicon,  and  praying  my  antidote  to 
every  trial.  The  Lord  only  knows  how  he  will  be 
pleased  to  dispose  of  me  ;  great  afflictions  I  am 
sure  of  having ;  and  a  sudden  death,  blessed  be 
God,  will  not  be  terrible.  I  know  that  my  Re- 
deemer liveth."  As  he  passed  through  the  middle 
and  eastern  states,  he  continually  preached  to  large 
and  attentive  congregations,  and  was  received  by 
them  with  affection  and  reverence,  as  if  he  had 
been  an  angel  of  God. 

As  he  journeyed  in  Massachusetts,  in  the  au- 
tumn of  1770,  he  was  greatly  importuned  to  preach 
at  Exeter,  and  though  considerably  indisposed, 
20 


238  BIOGRAPHY   OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

addressed  to  a  multitude  in  the  fields  there,  a  dis- 
course of  two  hours  in  continuance.  Before  he 
went  out  to  preach  that  day,  a  friend  observing  that 
he  looked  very  ill.  said,  "  Sir,  you  are  more  fit  to 
go  to  bed  than  to  preach."  "  True,  Sir,"  answered 
the  patient  sufferer,  and  turning  aside,  clasped  his 
hands,  and  raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  prayed  audi- 
bly, "  Lord  Jesus,  I  am  weary  in  thy  work,  but  not 
of  thy  work.  If  I  have  not  yet  finished  my  course, 
let  me  go  and  speak  for  thee  once  more  in  the  fields, 
seal  thy  truth,  and  come  home  and  die."  How 
visibly  was  that  request  granted  !  He  went,  and 
spake  in  the  fields,  sealed  the  truth  of  his  master, 
came  home  and  died.  From  the  12th  of  the  se- 
cond of  Corinthians,  the  dying  man  spake  to  the 
concourse,  "  Of  myself  I  will  not  glory,  but  in  my 
infirmities."  After  sermon  he  rode  to  Newbury- 
port,  with  his  friend,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Parsons,  supped 
and  retired  early. 

His  servant  found  him  reading  in  the  Bible,  with 
Dr.  Watts's  Psalms  lying  open  beside  him.  Kneel- 
ing down  by  his  bed,  he  closed  the  evening  with 
prayer,  and  rested  quietly  till  two  in  the  mortiing, 
when  he  awoke  panting  for  breath,  and  asked  that 
the  window  might  be  raised  higher.  "  I  wish," 
said  his  anxious  servant,  "you  would  not  preach 
so  often." — "  I  had  rather  wear  out,  than  rust  out," 
he  answered.  Raising  himself  in  the  bed,  he  lifted 
up  his  voice  in  its  last  earthly  prayer.  He  prayed 
for  a  blessing  upon  his  preaching  the  preceding  day, 
that  many  souls  might  be  brought  to  Christ ;  ask- 
ed for  direction  in  his  journey,  for  a  blessing  on  his 
Bethesda  College,  and  his  dear  orphans,  for  his 
congregations  in  England,  and  all  his  connections 


REV.    GEORGE    WHITEPIELD.  239 

there ;  and  then  composed  himself  to  sleep  again. 
In  an  hour  and  a  quarter  he  awoke.  "  My  asthma, 
my  asthma  is  coming  on  ;  I  wish  I  had  not  promis- 
ed to  preach  at  Haverhill  on  Monday.  I  fear  I 
shall  not  be  able ;  but  I  shall  see  what  a  day  will 
bring  forth." 

His  servant,  in  preparing  a  medicine,  awaked 
Mr.  Parsons,  who  came  in,  and  inquired  how  he 
felt.  "  I  am  almost  suffocated,"  said  he,  "  my 
asthma  quite  chokes  me."  Drawing  his  breath 
with  extreme  difficulty  and  pain,  he  rose,  and  stood 
at  an  open  window.  Turning  to  his  servant,  he 
said,  "  I  am  dying."  "01  hope  not,  sir,"  said  the 
atHicted  attendant.  He  ran  panting  to  the  other 
window,  but  could  find  no  relief.  "  I  am  dying," 
repeated  he,  and  spake  no  more.  They  persuaded 
him  to  swallow  a  little  warm  wine,  to  sit  down,  and 
be  covered  with  his  cloak,  while  they  sent  to  hasten 
the  physician.  His  eyes  were  now  fixed,  and  his 
under  lip  drawing  in,  every  time  he  respired.  The 
physician  as  he  entered,  felt  his  pulse,  and  exclaimed, 
"  He  is  a  dead  man."  "  I  do  not  believe  it,"  said 
Mr.  Parsons, "  you  must  do  something."  "  I  cannot, 
he  is  now  near  his  last  breath."  This  was  indeed 
80 ;  for  stretching  himself  out,  with  one  gasp  he 
expired.  This  was  exactly  at  six  o'clock,  on  the 
morning  of  the  Sabbath,  September  30,  1770. 
Unwilling  to  believe  that  he  must  speak  to  them  no 
more,  they  bathed  him  in  heated  spirits,  laid  him  in 
a  warm  bed,  and  continued  to  rub  him  with  warm 
flannel,  to  raise  him  upright,  and  to  hold  warm  spirits 
to  his  nose,  for  more  than  an  hour,  till  they  were 
convinced  that  no  life  remained. 


240  BIOGRAPHY    OF   PIOUS    PERSONS. 

While  thus  they  strove  to  wake  the  senseless  dust, 
High  soar'd  the  spirit  with  its  kind  red  just, 
Explor'd  the  climes  remote  from  pain  and  wo, 
Nor  cast  a  glance  on  toils  so  vain,  below. 


This  was  the  end  of  a  man,  endowed  with  every- 
thing amiable  and  excellent.  He  united  two  char- 
acters which  are  not  often  seen  in  imison  :  the 
finished,  complete  gentleman  ;  and  the  humble, 
ardent  Christian.  Nature  had  given  him  a  graceful 
and  well  proportioned  person ;  a  manly  and  expres- 
sive countenance  ;  a  deportment  easy  and  prepos- 
sessing. His  eyes  were  of  a  dark  blue  color,  and 
very  sprightly ;  his  complexion  fair ;  his  person  in 
youth  slender,  and  inclined  to  move  with  grace  and 
agility,  in  gesture  suitable  to  his  discourse.  Some 
years  before  his  death,  when  his  health  began  to 
decline,  he  was  observed  to  grow  more  corpulent. 
He  was  temperate  in  eating  and  drinking,  even  to  a 
proverb ;  and  remarkably  neat  in  his  person  and 
apparel,  sometimes  observing  pleasantly,  "  that  a 
minister  of  Christ  should  be  without  spot."  Ho 
had  a  voice  of  incredible  strength,  yet  tempered 
with  an  uncommon  degree  of  sweetiiess,  and  his 
command  of  it  was  wonderful.  His  pronunciation 
was  manly  and  graceful,  nor  was  he  ever  at  a  loss 
for  the  most  natural  and  strong  expression.  His 
eloquence  was  devoid  of  all  appearance  of  affecta- 
tion ;  he  seemed  quite  unconscious  of  the  talents 
he  possessed,  and  would  lose  himself  in  regard  for 
his  hearers,  and  the  importance  of  the  subject  he 
preached.  He  spoke  like  one  who  did  not  seek 
their  applause,  but  who,  from  a  principle  of  unfeigned 


REV.  GEORGE    WHITEFIELD.  241 

love  was  anxious  for  their  best  interests,  and  de- 
sirous to  lead  them  in  the  right  way. 

He  commanded  the  attention  of  multitudes  as  if 
by  magic  :  the  feelings  of  the  most  thoughtless  were 
solemnized  ;  they  would  hang  upon  his  lips.  The 
most  rude  and  unimpressible  would  soften  into  tears, 
and  when  he  enforced  the  gentle  claims  of  charity, 
the  avaricious  would  impart  so  liberally,  that  when 
they  returned  to  their  former  tempers,  they  would  be 
induced  to  think  that  their*  money  had  been  drawn 
from  them  by  magic.  The  grand  sources  of  his 
eloquence  were  an  exceeding  lively  imagination, 
which  made  people  think  (hey  saw  what  he  described ; 
an  action  still  more  lively,  if  possible,  by  which, 
while  every  accent  of  his  voice  spoke  to  the  ear, 
every  feature  of  his  face,  every  motion  of  his  hands 
tmd  body  spoke  to  the  eye  ;  and  a  heart  of  such 
acute  sensibility,  that  being  susceptible  itself  of 
every  tender  and  generous  emotion,  it  knew  the 
direct  approaches  to  the  hearts  of  others.  He  had 
also  an  elevation  of  mind,  which  raised  him  equally 
above  praise  and  censure,  and  added  force  and 
dignity  to  all  he  said.  He  had  a  soul  deeply  exer- 
cised in  the  social,  pious  and  religious  affections, 
and  was  at  the  same  time  most  remarkably  commu- 
nicative and  sincere  ;  by  which  means  he  was 
peculiarly  fitted  to  awaken  like  feelings  in  others, 
and  to  sympathize  with  every  one  who  had  them. 

Great  was  the  blessing  attendant  on  his  unwearied 
exertions,  and  humble  prayers ;  and  many  souls 
were  given  him  as  crowns  of  his  rejoicing.  But 
now  his  warfare  is  finished  ;  he  has  fought  the  good 
fight,  and  Uke  a  hero,  died  on  the  field  of  battle. 
20* 


242  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

After  exhibiting  in  his  life  all  the  virtues  of  the 
Christian  character,  the  whole  scope  of  its  activity, 
the  whole  ardor  of  its  zeal,  he  obtained  the  extent 
of  his  prayers  ;  a  visible  blessing  upon  his  labors, 
and  a  sudden  dismission  to  everlasting  rest. 


REV.  SAMUEL  BUELL. 


Samuel  Buell  was  born  at  Coventry,  in  Con- 
necticut, Sept.  1,  1716.  His  father  was  a  wealthy 
farmer,  and  for  many  years  having  no 

1716.  other  son,  destined  him  for  the  pursuits  of 
agriculture,  in  which  line  of  life  his  pros- 
pects were  flattering.  But  in  the  17th  year  of  his 
age,  he  became  a  subject  of  strong  conviction  and 
thorough  awakening,  and  found  his  views  so 
changed,  as  to  desire  to  leave  the  plenty  and  wealth 
of  his  expected  situation,  for  the  more  difficult  and 
eventful  life  of  a  preacher  of  the  gospel.  After 
seeking  for  two  years  the  direction  of  God  by 
prayer,  closely  observing  the  prevailing  temper  of 
his  heart,  and  advising  with  his  friends,  he  entered 
on  a  course  of  study,  received  the  honors  of  Yale 
College  in  1741,  and  the  same  year  was  licensed, 
after  passing  the  usual  examinations  to  general 
satisfaction.  His  preaching  was  remarkably  bles- 
sed with  full  demonstration  of  the  Spirit,  many 
owned  him  as  their  spiritual  father,  and  he  was  the 
first  instrument  of  the  great  revival  at  Northampton, 
in  1742,  in  the  time  of  President  Edwards. 

After  laboring  successfully  as  an  itinerant  preach- 
er for  the  space  of  five  years,  he  was  installed  at 
East   Hampton,  on  Long  Island,  in  September, 


244  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSON?. 

1746,  and  a  people  who  had  before  been  greatly 
divided,  became  in  him  as  remarkably  united. 
Here  he  prosecuted  his  studies  with  great  ardor, 
performing  his  parochial  duties  with  equal  zeal, 
frequently  preaching  many  times  in  the  week,  cate- 
chising the  children,  instructing  the  youth,  adminis- 
tering consolation  to  the  distressed,  showing  mercy 
to  the  poor.  His  favorite  maxim  was,  "  usefulness 
in  life."  His  spiritual  labors  were  succeeded  by 
three  great  and  general  revivals,  at  one  of  which  no 
less  than  99  persons  came  forth  at  once  to  take 
upon  them  the  vows  of  Christ,  beside  considerable 
numbers  at  other  seasons  of  awakening.  His 
church  was  noted  for  its  sobriety,  and  his  people  for 
their  strong  attachment  to  him. 

In  the  revolutionary  contest,  when  that  beautiful 
island  became  for  a  time  the  theatre  of  war,  and 
when  the  inhabitants  were  flying  in  every  direction 
before  the  enemy,  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  remain 
like  a  true  shepherd  with  the  remnant  of  his  flock. 
He  successfully  exerted  his  utmost  influence  in 
favor  of  the  distressed  ;  by  his  instrumentality  many 
impossible  demands  of  the  enemy  were  recalled, 
and  many  rigorous  ones  softened  ;  and  though  his 
activity  often  excited  the  resentment  of  an  imperi- 
ous soldiery,  and  his  life  was  more  than  once  immi- 
nently endangered,  he  shrunk  not  from  his  post, 
and  as  he  had  before  been  the  father,  so  was  he  now 
the  defender  of  his  people.  The  accumulated  care 
of  the  neighboring  churches  lay  also  upon  him,  as 
there  was  but  one  minister  within  forty  miles,  able 
to  do  service,  and  he  was  confined  to  his  own  pa- 
rish by  the  infirmities  of  age.  What  this  zealous, 
active,  and  courageous  man  performed  in  those 


REV.    SAMUEL    BUEI.L.  245 

days  of  darkness  and  dismay,  it  is  impossible  for 
me  in  these  narrow  limits  to  recount.  Suftlce  it  to 
say,  that  his  praise  was  in  the  mouths  of  multitudes, 
as  it  had  been  before  in  the  churches. 

Dr.  Buell's  publications  are,  fourteen  sermons  on 
peculiarly  important  subjects  and  occasions,  and  a 
narrative  of  tlie  work  of  God  among  the  people  of 
his  charge  in  1740.  These  are  expressions  of  a 
strong  mind  and  ardent  piety,  and  have  been  read 
with  pleasure  and  advantage  by  the  lovers  of  experi- 
mental religion.  Of  his  public  spirit,  and  love  of 
science,  Clinton  Academy,  in  East  Hampton,  is  a 
monument ;  for  of  this  institution  he  was  the  father 
and  patron.  In  his  private  character  he  possessed 
a  happy  disposition,  a  sprightly  genius,  and  an  active 
mind.  "  Whatever  his  hand  found  to  do  he  did  it 
with  his  might."  He  was  much  of  the  gentleman 
as  well  as  the  Christian  ;  in  the  various  relations  of 
husband,  parent,  master,  friend,  and  neighbor,  he 
was  aftectionato  and  happy :  his  house  was  the 
mansion  of  hospitality,  and  no  man  rejoiced  more 
than  he  in  receiving  and  entertaining  his  friends. 
JJut  though  to  his  flock  he  was  a  pattern  of  Chris- 
tian graces  and  duties,  he  excelled  in  nothing  more 
than  in  a  spirit  of  devotion.  Of  the  power  and 
efficacy  of  prayer  he  had  the  highest  opinion,  en- 
deavored to  excite  others  to  its  exercise,  and  abound- 
ed in  it  himself.  He  considered  it  as  a  necessary 
part  of  preparation  for  the  sanctuary,  and  found  the 
exercises  of  the  pulpit  which  were  generally  his  de- 
light and  his  life,  burdensome  without  it.  Ho  enter- 
tained a  deep  sense  of  his  dependence  upon  God 
for  every  enjoyment,  and  was  disposed  to  acknow- 
ledge and  trust  in  him  under  every  changing  cir- 


246  BIOGRAPHY    OF   PIOUS    PERSONS. 

cumstance.  Thus  in  his  sermon  upon  the  death  of 
his  first  wife  he  expresses  himself,  "  I  hope  your  can- 
dor will  not  deem  it  ostentation  for  me  to  say  that 
my  comforts  were  received  with  prayer,  praise, 
and  the  joy  of  trembling ;  and  have  been  parted 
with,  however  nature  might  oppose,  with  prayer^ 
submission,  and  at  last,  praise." 

He  was  a  man  whose  joys  and  afflictions  were 
great  and  peculiar ;  he  laid  in  the^grave  the  remains 
of  two  wives  in  whom  he  was  very  happy,  and  of  eight 
children,  which,  in  connection  with  four  servants, 
make  the  deaths  in  his  family  amount  to  fourteen. 
He  was  accustomed  to  preach  on  the  occasion  of 
a  death  in  his  household,  that  his  people  might  reap 
benefit  from  his  bereavements.  Two  of  these  dis- 
courses are  published,  and  show  a  sweet  compo- 
sure of  mind  and  resignation  of  spirit ;  one  on  the 
death  of  a  daughter  of  great  accomplishments  and 
piety  ;  the  other  his  only  son,  a  religious  youth  of 
sixteen,  whose  excellent  talents  were  improved  by 
a  classical  education,  and  whom  he  had  viewed  as 
the  supporter  of  his  name,  the  hope  of  his  family, 
and  his  successor  in  the  ministry. 

It  was  the  prayer  of  this  extraordinary  man,  that 
he  might  not  outlive  his  usefulness,  a  prayer  fervent- 
ly offered,  and  signally  answered.  The  day  he  m  as 
eighty  years  old  he  rode  fourteen  miles,  preached, 
and  returned  home  in  the  evening  ;  and  firm  health, 
and  soundness  of  mind,  the  probable  result  of  the 
strictest  temperance,  continued  with  him  till  the  last. 
He  preached  the  Sabbath  but  one  before  his  death» 
and  just  as  he  entered  his  83d  year,  an  illness  seized 
him  that  was  short,  severe  and  mortal.  The  warmth 
and  propriety  of  his  exhortations  to  those  around 


REV.    SAMUEL    BUELL.  247 

him  proved  the  firmness  of  his  intellect ;  while  on 
his  countenance  there  was  an  expression  of  joy  like 
that  of  a  wanderer  who  sees  his  long  parted  home. 
His  soul  was  so  attracted  to  a  better  world,  that 
he  could  not  bear  that  the  assiduities  of  his  friends 
should  strive  to  detain  him  in  this,  and  with  his  eyes 
and  his  aflections  turned  from  the  vanities  of  time 
he  seemed  triumphantly  to  enter  into  the  joys  of  his 
Lord,  on  Thursday,  July  19,  1798. 


WILLIAM  COWPER,  EStl. 


Wii-LiAM  CowpER,  an  excellent  moral  poet,  was 
descended  from  an  ancient  family,  distinguishablo 
both  for  rank  and  talents  ;  and  was  the  son  of  the 
Rev.  John  Cowper,  chaplain  of  George  II.  He 
was  born  at  Great  Barkhamstead,  in  the 
1731.  year  1731,  and  at  the  age  of  6  was  de- 
prived of  his  excellent  mother,  whose  loss 
he  deeply  deplored.  His  fihal  tenderness  and  af- 
fection for  her  memory  are  touchingly  delineated  in 
a  little  poem  occasioned  by  the  sight  of  her  picture, 
more  than  50  years  after  her  death.  He  seemed 
peculiarly  to  require  the  attentions  of  maternal  ten- 
derness, not  only  from  the  feebleness  of  his  consti- 
tution, but  from  that  shrinking  timidity  of  mind, 
which  was  confirmed  into  the  most  oppressive  diffi- 
dence, and  occasionally  darkened  into  deplorable 
melancholy.  He  passed  through  the  forms  of  a 
public  education,  with  the  same  painful  susceptibili- 
ty of  mind,  yet  his  intellectual  powers,  strong  and 
ardent,  shone  with  clear  splendor  through  the  veil 
that  encompassed  them.  His  biographer  remarks 
that,  "  reserved  as  he  was,  to  an  extraordinary  and 
painful  degree,  his  heart  and  mind  were  yet  admira- 
bly fitted  by  nature  for  all  the  refined  intercourse, 
and  confidential  delights  of  friendship  and  of  love  ; 


WILLIAM   COWFBR,    ESQ.  249 

but  though  formed  to  possess  and  comiiiunicate  an 
extmordinary  portion  of  human  felicity,  the  incidents 
of  his  Hfc,  and  the  susccptiliility  of  his  fecHngs  were 
such,  as  to  render  him  at  diiFerent  times  deeply  de- 
pressed and  unhappy." 

He  had  acquired  a  competent  knowledge  of  the 
law,  and  was  appointed  reading  clerk  to  the  House 
of  Lords,  yet  his  terror  of  appearing  in  that  pubUc 
character  so  tortured  his  timid  and  delicate  mind  as 
to  destroy  at  once  his  health  and  mental  tranquillity. 
His  anxious  friends  immediately  placed  him  under 
the  care  of  Dr.  Cotton,  a  celebrated  physician  and 
poet,  whose  medical  skill  and  benignity  of  manners, 
were  rendered  instrumental  by  the  blessing  of  Heav- 
en to  the  comfort  of  the  reviving  invalid.  About 
this  time,  distressing  apprehensions  for  his  eternal 
welfare  were  added  to  \a»  constitutional  sadness,  till 
by  the  power  of  divine  grace,'  his  gloom  and  terror 
gave  way  to  the  lustre  of  comfort  and  delight.  Just 
and  cheering  views  of  evangelical  truth  arose  in  his 
mind,  while  reading  the  third  chapter  of  Romans, 
and  from  the  most  distressing  anxiety,  he  found  that 
the  contemplations  and  exercises  of  devotion  were 
unspeakably  dear  to  his  reviving  spirit.  The  con- 
solation which  he  experienced  after  the  severest  dis- 
tress he  thus  describes  in  an  affecting  allegory. 

"  I  was  a  stricken  deer,  that  left  the  herd 
Long  since  ;  with  many  an  arrow  deep  infix'd, 
My  panlinc  side  was  charg'd,  when  I  withdrew 
To  seek  a  tranquil  death  in  distant  shades. 
There  was  I  found  by  one  who  had  himself 
Been  hurt  by  tlie  archers.    In  his  side  he  bore 
And  in  his  hands  and  feet  tlie  cruel  scars. 
With  gentle  force  soliciting  the  darts, 
He  drew  thcni  forth,  and  hcal'd,  and  bade  rac  live." 
21 


250  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

In  this  pleasing  tranquillity  of  mind,  he  resolved 
to  withdraw  himself  from  the  bustle  and  intercourse 
of  a  vexatious  world,  and  enjoy  the  delights  of  re- 
tirement and  of  poetry.  In  the  affectionate  family 
of  the  Rev.  Mr.  tin  win,  he  found  a  beloved  asylum, 
where  he  spent  almost  the  whole  of  his  remaining 
life,  and  composed  the  principal  part  of  his  literary 
productions.  His  translations  of  Homer's  Iliad  and 
Odyssey ;  of  Milton's  Latin  and  Italian  poems  ; 
his  own  "  Task,"  fugitive  pieces  and  Letters,  furnish 
many  volumes,  and  bear  witnes.j  at  once  to  his  indus- 
try and  genius,  his  amiable  character,  and  exalted 
piety.  During  his  residence  at  Olney,  he  was  under 
the  pastoral  care  of  the  celebrated  Mr.  Newton,  and 
their  endeared  and  intimate  friendship,  is  thus  men- 
tioned by  that  remarkable  clergyman.  "  For  nearly 
twelve  years,  we  were  seldom  separated  for  seven 
hours  at  a  time,  when  we  were  awake  and  at  home. 
The  first  of  those  six  years  I  passed  in  daily  admir- 
ing and  endeavoring  to  imitate  him  ;  during  the  sec- 
ond six,  I  walked  pensively  with  him  in  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death."  Cowper,  in  his  whole 
life  and  conversation,  was  indeed  a  follower  of  Christ. 
In  his  secret  devotions  he  was  regular  and  fervent ; 
in  his  charities  frequent,  and  hberal,  notwithstanding 
his  limited  finances.  "  He  loved  the  poor,"  says 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Newton,  "  he  often  visited  them 
in  their  cottages,  conversed  with  them  in  the  most 
condescending  manner,  sympathised  with  them ; 
counselled  and  comforted  them  in  their  distresses  ; 
and  those  who  were  seriously  disposed,  were  often 
cheered  and  animated  by  his  prayers." 

Over  the  last  years  of  his  hfe  was  drawn  a  cloud 
of  mental  depression.     It  was  the  effect  of  physi- 


WILLIAM    COWPER,    ESQ.  261 

cal  disorder,  and  a  broken  constitution,  and  gradual- 
ly undermined  his  strong  intellectual  powers.  But 
his  sorro\Vs  were  mercifully  terminated  by  a  most 
mild  and  tranquil  dissolution,  for  he  passed  through 
the  awful  passage  of  death  so  gently,  that  although 
five  persons  were  anxiously  observing  him,  not  one 
perceived  him  to  expire  :  but  he  had  ceased  to 
breathe,  about  five  minutes  before  5  in  the  after- 
noon, April  25,  1800. 


DR.  .JA31ES  BKATTIE. 


James  Beattie  was  born  October  25,    1735,  at 
Lawrencekirk,  an  obscure  hamlet,  in  the  county  of 
Kincardine,  in  Scotland.     His  father  stip- 
1735.     ported  his  family,  principally  by  the  em- 
ployment of  agriculture,  and  resided  on 
the  same  spot  which  his  ancestors  had  cultivated 
for  many  generations.     Our  poet  was  the  youngest 
of  six  children,  and  if  from  his  family  he  derived,  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world,  no  additional  lustre,  he  at 
least  incun-ed  no  disgrace,  for  they  were  examples 
of  honesty  and  integrity,  and  distinguished  in  their 
neighborhood  as  the  possessors  of  superior  under- 
standing.    Ilis  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was 
Jane  Watson,  was  thought  a  woman  of  uncommon 
abilities,  and  after  the  death  of  her  husband,  con- 
tinued his  business,  and  educated  her  youngest  son 
at  the  parish  school  of  Lawrencekirk. 

At  the  age  of  14,  he  commenced  his  academical 
course,  at  Marischal  College,  Aberdeen,  and  be- 
came a  candidate  for  one  of  the  bursaries  provided 
for  the  students  of  slender  finances.  No  humilia- 
ting idea  was  annexed  to  the  appellation  of  Rursar, 
at  Aberdeen,  which  signifies  only  the  receiver  of  an 
annual  stipend,  given  as  the  reward  of  diligence  in 
learning,  and  superior  merit.     On  the  first  year  of 


DR.    JAMES    BEATTIE.  253 

his  attendance  he  gained  the  premium  from  his 
whole  class,  and  used  often  to  acknowledge  with 
gratitude,  that  here,  by  the  encouragement  of  Dr. 
Blackwell,  the  principal  of  the  University,  he  was 
first  led  to  believe  himself  possessed  of  any  genius. 
He  finished  his  course  of  study,  in  four  years,  and 
at  the  age  of  18  was  appointed  parochial  school- 
master of  Fourdon,  a  small  hamlet  at  the  foot  of  the 
Grampian  Mountains.  Here  in  the  bosom  of  soli- 
tude, estranged  from  literary  society,  and  in  a  great 
measure  from  books',  his  amusements  were  the  con- 
templation of  the  sublime  scenery  which  his  resi- 
dence afforded,  and  the  cultivation  of  those  poetical 
powers,  which  were  afterwards  to  charm  all  who 
could  estimate  the  delineated  beauties  of  nature,  or 
the  fine  combinations  of  harmori)(. 

But  in  the  fifth  year  of  his  seclusion,  he  was  call- 
ed to  the  more  lucrative  office  of  usher  in  a  gram- 
mar school  at  Aberdeen,  and  in  a  short  time  was 
presented  with  the  chair  and  professorship  of  Moral 
Philosophy,  in  the  University  where  he  was  edu- 
cated ;  an  office  far  exceeding  his  most  sanguine 
hopes,  but  not  transcending  his  talents  or  quedifica- 
tions. 

At  the  age  of  24  he  was  installed  in  his  new  dig- 
nity, and  found  himself  suddenly  raised  to  a  station 
of  much  respectability,  to  the  cherished  intimacy  of 
men  of  the  first  moral  and  literary  character,  and  to 
a  sphere  from  whence  knowledge  of  the  most  im- 
portant nature  might  be  widely  disseminated. 

His  first  care  was  to  prepare  a  course  of  lectures 

on  the  sciences  of  Moral   Philosophy  and  Logic, 

which  afterwards,  condensed  and  perfected,  were 

given  to  the  world  under  the  title  of  "  Elements  of 

21* 


254  BIOGRAPHV    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

Science."  His  duty  was  to  teach  in  his  class  three 
hours  of  every  week  day,  during  the  term,  at  8,  at 
11,  and  at  3.  He  began  his  prelections  with  the 
"  Offices  of  Cicero,"  of  which  every  student  read 
and  translated  a  part  at  their  morning  meeting ;  and 
at  the  next  hour  he  commented  upon  the  part  under 
review,  compared  it  with  the  other  systems  of  hea- 
then philosophy,  examined  them  on  the  substance 
of  what  they  had  heard,  and  at  the  end  of  this  intro- 
ductory course,  dictated  an  abstract  of  the  whole, 
which  they  committed  to  writing. 

His  next  course  was  Natural  Theology,  Specula- 
tive and  Practical  Ethics,  Economics,  Jurispru- 
dence, Politics,  Rhetoric  and  Logic.  Of  each  of 
these  branches,  he  dictated  in  tlie  morning  an  ab- 
stract, on  which,  a§  on  a  text-book,  he  commented 
at  the  two  succeeding  lectures  of  the  day,  in  the 
most  clear,  lively,  and  engaging  manner  ;  examin- 
ing his  pupils,  as  he  proceeded,  on  the  attention 
they  had  paid,  and  the  benefit  they  had  derived. 
He  read  also  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics,  and  re- 
quired them  to  translate  as  literally  as  the  genius  of 
the  English  language  would  permit.  His  indefiitt- 
gable  diligence,  and  exemplary  carriage,  excited  not 
only  the  affection  and  reverence  of  his  own  class, 
but  the  whole  body  of  students  at  the  university, 
looked  up  to  him  with  esteem  and  veneration. 
The  profound  piety  of  the  public  prayers,  with  which 
he  began  the  business  of  each  day,  arrested  the  at- 
tention of  the  youngest  and  most  thoughtless  ;  the 
excellence  of  his  moral  character,  his  gravity, 
blended  with  cheerfulness,  his  strictness,  joined  with 
gentleness,  his  favor  to  the  virtuous  and  diligent, 
and  even  the  mildness  of  his  reproofs,  to  those  who 


DR.    JAMES    BEATTIE.  26ft 

were  less  attentive,  rendered  him  the  object  of  re- 
spect and  veneration. 

Never  was  more  exact  discipline  preserved  than 
in  his  class,  and  never  by  more  gentle  means.  His 
sway  was  absolute,  but  it  was  founded  in  reason 
and  affection.  He  never  employed  a  harsh  epithet 
in  instances  of  his  pupils'  misconduct,  and  when 
instead  of  a  rebuke  which  they  were  conscious  of 
deserving,  they  received  merely  a  mild  reproof,  it 
was  conveyed  in  such  a  manner  as  to  throw  not 
only  the  offender,  but  sometimes  the  whole  class, 
into  tears. 

To  gain  his  favor  was  the  highest  ambition  of  ev- 
ery student ;  and  his  gentlest  word  of  disapproba- 
tion was  a  punishment  which  no  exertion  was  too 
great  to  avoid.  His  great  object  was,  not  merely 
to  make  his  pupils  philosophers,  but  to  render  them 
good  men,  pious  Christians,  attached  to  their  gov- 
ernment, pure  in  morals,  happy  in  the  consciousness 
of  a  right  conduct,  and  friends  to  all  mankind.  "  As 
far  as  the  principles  of  those  committed  to  my  care 
depend  upon  me,"  says  one  of  his  confidential  let- 
ters, "  I  hold  myself  accountable  to  my  own  con- 
science and  the  public."  Those  who  had  the  bene- 
fit of  his  instructions  are  never  weary  of  expatiating 
on  his  unwearied  attention,  and  continued  course  of 
examination  and  repetition,  that  he  might  imprint  up- 
on their  minds  the  pure  precepts  of  philosophy,  and 
sublime  truths  of  religion.  Nor  did  his  care  for 
them  cease  with  their  tenn  of  study  ;  it  was  his  pe- 
culiar deUght  to  assist  in  their  future  establishment, 
which  he  had  of\cn  in  his  power  by  recommending 
them  as  schoolmasters,  or  private  teachers,  and  in 
their  future  welfare  he  took  the  interest  of  a  father, 


256  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

and  counselled  and  instructed  them  by  his  corres- 
pondence. 

In  perusing  the  voluminous  collection  of  letters 
which  he  received  from  them,  it  is  extremely  pleas- 
ing to  find  so  great  a  number  Irom  young  men  in 
different  parts  of  the  world,  particularly  America, 
and  the  West  Indies,  all  of  them  expressing  their 
gratitude  for  the  benefit  of  his  care  and  instructions, 
and  some  of  them  tor  the  advantageous  situations 
they  had  obtained  through  his  instrumentality.  Such 
was  the  method  of  Beattie's  tuition,  and  a  diary  of 
his,  in  the  keeping  of  his  friends,  records  what  was 
done  in  his  class,  every  day,  for  more  than  thirty 
years,  and  displays  his  diligence  and  solicitude  in  a 
stronger  light  than  any  studied  eulogium. 

To  his  own  private  htudics  he  gave  also  a  propor- 
tion of  lime,  and  diligent  attention.  From  childhood 
he  had  borne  among  his  schoolfellows,  the  appella- 
tion of  "  the  Poet,"  but  his  first  publication  of  con- 
sequence was  a  small  volume  of  occasional  poems, 
in  the  year  1760.  This,  without  patronage,  issued 
from  the  London  press,  where  the  author  Mas  un- 
known, but  its  intrinsic  merit  gained  the  applause  of 
the  best  judges,  and  conferred  upon  him  the  title  of 
original  genius. 

On  the  28th  of  June,  1767,  he  was  manied  to 
Miss  Mary  Dun,  only  daughter  of  the  Rector  of 
the  Grammar  School  at  Aberdeen,  to  whom  he  was 
attracted  by  sympathy  of  taste,  and  agreeable  ac- 
complishments. Three  years  after,  appeared  his 
*'  Essay  on  the  Nature  and  Immutability  of  Truth," 
in  opposition  to  the  infidel  writers  of  the  day.  It 
was  particularly  directed  at  Hume,  who  then  wrs 
in  the  zenith  of  his  popularity,  opulence,  and  litera- 
21* 


nn.    JAMES    BEATTIE.  257 

ry  reptitation  ;  but  who,  havin}^  imbibed  the  princi- 
ples of  a  cold-hearted,  and  gloomy  philosophy, 
whose  direct  tendency  was  to  distract  the  mind  with 
doubts  on  subjects  the  most  serious  and  important, 
strove  to  undermine  the  best  interests,  and  dissolve 
the  strongest  bands  of  society. 

In  the  defence  of  truth,  Beattie  arose  with  the 
energy  of  one  who  feels  in  earnest,  and  with  the 
wannth  of  a  Christian.  In  a  letter  to  a  friend  he 
says,  "  being  honored  with  the  care  of  a  part  of  the 
British  youth,  and  considering  it  as  my  indispensa- 
ble duty,  from  which  I  trust  I  shall  never  deviate,  to 
guard  dieir  minds  against  impiety  and  error,  I  have 
endeavored  to  form  a  right  estimate  of  Mr.  Hume's 
philosophy,  not  only  of  his  peculiar  tenets,  but  also 
of  their  connection  and  consequence.  But  a  scheme 
like  this  cannot  be  popular,  far  less  lucrative.  It 
will  raj^e  me  enemies,  and  expose  me  to  the  most 
rigid  criticism,  but  I  trust  in  Providence,  and  in  the 
goodness  of  my  cause,  that  my  attempts  in  behalf 
of  truth  shall  not  be  altogether  ineffectual,  and  that 
my  labors  shall  be  attended  with  some  utility  to  my 
fellow  creatures." 

Soon  after  this  publication  he  was  attacked  by  an 
host  of  infidel  writers,  madly  pursuing  the  champion 
who  had  entered  their  strong  holds,  and  laid  open 
their  untenable  fortresses.  But  the  praises  of  good 
men,  and  the  thanks  of  Christians,  consoled  him, 
and  within,  was  the  silent  approbation  of  his  own 
heart.  The  most  judicious  critics,  the  most  distin- 
guished characters  ip  England,  admired  the  work, 
and  sought  the  intimacy  of  the  author  ;  and  the 
king,  patronizing  both  him  and  his  cause,  granted 
him  a  yearly  pension   of  2UU   pounds.     Raised  to 


268  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

wealth  and  honor,  by  a  work  from  which  he  expect- 
ed neither,  he  was  taught  to  realize  that  a  reward 
even  in  this  Ufe  often  follows  the  zealous  and  firm 
discharge  of  duty. 

In  a  short  time  followed  the  publication  of  his 
"  Minstrel,"  a  work  in  which  the  progress  of  genius 
in  the  human  mind,  and  descriptions  of  the  imagery 
of  nature,  are  combined  with  the  purest  moral  sen- 
timents, and  clothed  with  the  melody  and  majesty 
of  which  English  verse  is  susceptible.  In  its  differ- 
ent sphere  it  was  not  less  celebrated  than  his  essay, 
and  it  still  remains  a  monument  of  exquisite  taste, 
and  harmonious  versification.  "  It  seems  to  me," 
said  the  virtuous  Lord  Lyttleton,  after  his  first  pe- 
rusal of  it,  "that  my  beloved  minstrel,  Thompson, 
had  come  down  from  heaven,  refined  by  the  con- 
verse of  pure  spirits,  to  let  me  hear  him  sing  again, 
the  beauties  of  nature,  and  the  finest  feelings  pf  vir- 
tue, not  in  human,  but  angelic  strains."  His  visit 
to  London,  the  ensuing  summer,  was  rendered 
agreeable  by  the  acquisition  of  many  valuable 
friends  ;  for  kings  and  peers,  bishops,  poets  and 
philosophers,  sought  to  proffer  him  their  friendship, 
and  from  this  period  his  history  is  interwoven  by 
confidential  correspondence  with  the  most  distin- 
guished and  venerated  characters  of  the  age. 

The  university  of  Oxford  hastened  to  confer  upon 
him  an  honorary  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws,  and  on 
the  day  of  it^  pubhc  bestowment  a  Latin  Oration 
was  pronounced  in  his  praise  by  the  Professor  of 
Civil  Law,  Dr.  Vansittart,  whi^e  the  loud  and  reit- 
erated applause  of  a  vast  concourse,  convinced  him 
that  his  character  was  neither  unknown,  or  disre- 
garded.    The  celebrated  artist,  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 


DR.    JAMES    BEATTIE.  259 

nolds,  presented  him  with  his  portrait,  and  executed 
an  allegorical  painting,  representing  him  as  large  as 
life,  in  the  character  of  the  champion  of  truth,  while 
an  angel  descending,  darts  its  rays  intensely  from 
a  sun  that  blazes  on  his  breast,  and  three  figures, 
differently  representing  Sophistry,  Scepticism,  and 
Infidelity,  are  seen  hiding  their  eyes,  and  refusing 
"  to  come  to  the  light  lest  their  deeds  should  be  re- 
proved." This  elegant  performance  was  placed  in 
the  Exhibition,  as  a  specimen  of  the  talents  of  that 
ingenious  and  amiable  artist. 

The  celebrated  Mrs.  Montague,  referring  to  the 
transactions  of  the  times,  says,  in  one  of  her  letters, 
"  It  is  not  on  your  account  alone  that  I  rejoice  in 
the  honors  and  marks  of  distinction  and  applause 
you  have  received,  but  I  congratulate  the  age  on 
the  zeal  with  which  thev  pay  regard  to  merit."  In 
this  little  extract  of  his  life,  I  have  been  the  more 
diffuse  upon  this  point,  to  show  that  the  world  has, 
in  one  instance  at  least,  wisely  appreciated  the  ta- 
lentii  and  virtues  of  an  obscure  man. 

In  the  spring  of  1744,  his  removal  to  the  more 
flourishing  university  of  Edinburgh  was  repeatedly 
solicited,  but  in  vain  ;  and  immediately  after,  he  re- 
ceived several  urgent  requests  from  his  friends  in 
London,  to  take  orders  and  enter  the  Church  of 
England.  His  answer  to  Dr.  Porteus,  Eishop  of 
London,  who  offered  him  a  living  of  500/.  a^ear,  is 
an  admirable  display  of  purity  of  principles, 'and  in- 
tegrity of  mind.  Among  the  reasons  that  induced 
him  to  decline  the  proposal,  he  numbers  one,  that 
determined  the  humane,  the  pious  Wilberforce,  in  a 
similar  choice ; — "  that  his  writings  in  favour  of  re- 
ligion would  be  more  attended  to,  if  he  continued  a 


260  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

layman."  He  acknowledges  that  his  opinions,  stu- 
dies, way  of  life,  and  habits  of  thinking,  were  in- 
clined to  that  profession,  that  he  had  several  times, 
at  different  periods  of  life,  been  disposed  to  enter 
it,  but  had  been  prevented  by  incidents  so  remarka- 
ble, as  without  presumption  might  be  considered 
particular  interpositions  of  Providence,  and  though, 
for  weighty  reasons,  he  was  then  induced  to  de- 
cline it,  promises  "  to  the  last  hour  of  his  life  to 
preseiTC  a  most  grateful  remembrance  of  the 
honor  intended,  and  to  employ  that  health  and  lei- 
sure which  Providence  might  afford,  in  opposing  in- 
fidelity, heresy  and  error,  and  in  promoting,  to  the 
utmost  of  his  power,  sound  literature  and  Chris- 
tian truth." 

We  have  seen  Beattie  suddenly  emerging  from 
the  penury  and  seclusion  that  enveloped  darkly  the 
first  twenty-four  years  of  his  life,  rising  as  it  were 
in  a  moment,  to  dignity,  and  wealth,  and  reputation, 
and  honor.  We  have  seen  no  affliction  mingling 
with  his  prosperity,  no  difficulty  obstructing  his  use- 
fulness, no  crime  staining  his  name,  and  have 
almost  been  led  to  suppose  him  exempted  from  the 
many  "  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to."  Yet  he,  too,  hud 
afflictions ;  and  they  fell  where  he  was  most  vul- 
nerable— in  his  family.  He  was  a  man  tremblingly 
alive  to  every  claim  of  sympathy,  to  every  feeling 
of  aft'ection,  and  where  he  most  expected  synipa- 
thy,  where  he  most  looked  for  affection,  he  felt 
deeply  that  "the  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitter- 
ness." His  wife,  in  a  very  short  time  afler  their 
marriage,  gave  evidence  of  a  distempered  mind, 
and  her  disease  at  length  terminated  in  hopeless 
insanity.     He  watched  over,  and  cherished  her. 


DR.    JAMES    BEATTIE.  261 

with  the  utmost  tenderness,  suffering  anxious  days 
and  sleepless  nights,  until  the  physicians  pronounced 
her  seclusion  from  society  absolutely  necessary, 
and  he  then  procured  for  her  every  possible  accom- 
modation and  comfort.  "  When  I  reflect  on  his 
unwearied  and  unremitting  attention  to  her,"  says 
an  intimate  friend,  "  his  character  is  exalted  in  my 
mind  to  a  degree  which  may  be  equalled,  but 
I  am  sure  can  never  be  excelled,  and  which  makes 
the  fame  of  the  poet  and  philosopher  fade  from  my 
remembrance." 

Disappointed  in  his  hope  of  rational  domestic 
enjoyment,  he  turned  his  undivided  attention  to  the 
education  of  his  two  sons.  His  eldest  showed  a 
taste  for  a  retired  and  studious  life ;  he  had  labored 
from  his  infancy  to  instil  correct  moral  and  religious 
principles  into  his  mind,  and  was  happy  to  find  that 
his  genius  inclined  to  the  studies  of  theology,  classi- 
cal learning,  morality,  poetry  and  criticism.  In 
Latin,  Greek  and  French,  he  was  a  successful 
student,  and  so  ffreat  was  his  proficiency,  and  so 
faultless  his  deportment,  that  the  university  recom- 
mended him  to  his  majesty  as  a  proper  successor  to 
bis  father,  and  he  was  accordingly  nominated  as 
Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  at  the  age  of  nine- 
teen. But  he  was  a  plant  of  short  duration ;  a 
sudden  decline  seized  him,  and  in  his  twenty-second 
year,  perceiving  death  to  approach,  he  met  it  with 
firmness  and  submission,  without  delirium  or  strug- 
gle, complaint  or  groan.  To  the  afflicted  father  in 
this  hour  of  wo,  might  be  applied  a  hne  of  his 
own  effusion — 

"  He  thought  as  a  sage,  while  he  felt  as  a  man." 
22 


262  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

In  his  account  of  the  life  of  his  son,  prefixed  to  a 
selection  of  his  writings,  he  says,  "  the  Lord  gave, 
and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away,  blessed  be  the  name 
of  the  Lord.  I  adore  the  Author  of  all  good,  who 
gave  him  grace  to  lead  such  a  life,  and  die  such  a 
death,  as  makes  it  impossible  for  a  Christian  to 
doubt  of  his  having  entered  upon  the  inheritance  of 
a  happy  immortality."  To  his  only  remaining  son 
he  now  turned,  as  to  a  last  hope.  He  was  ten  years 
younger  than  his  lost  brother,  and  of  a  different 
taste,  yet  his  attainments  in  science  were  by  no 
means  despisable,  and  his  father  educated  him  for 
the  church.  But  a  cloud  enveloped  his  fairest  prds- 
pects.  This  only  surviving  son  became  the  sudden 
victim  of  a  distressing  fever,  when  he  had  scarcely 
entered  his  eighteenth  year.  Looking  for  the  last 
time  upon  the  dead  body  of  his  child,  he  said,  "  I 
have  now  done  with  the  world."  His  letters  written 
at  this  time,  no  one  of  common  humanity  can  read 
without  emotion.  In  one  he  says,  "  my  son  Mon- 
tagu sleeps  in  his  brother's  grave.  A  fever  cut 
him  off  in  five  days,  but  he  spoke  with  composure 
and  Christian  piety  of  his  approaching  dissolution, 
and  gave  directions  for  his  iuneral.  Within  a  few 
minutes  of  his  death,  he  was  heard  to  repeat  in  a 
whisper  the  Lord's  prayer,  and  to  begin  an  unfinished 
sentence,  of  which  nothing  could  be  heard  but  the 
words,  '■incorruptible  glory.^  But  I  thank  God, 
that  though  I  am  now  childless,  I  am  entirely  re- 
signed. I  have  had  too  much  experience  not  to 
know,  that  the  only  sources  of  comfort  in  cases  of 
this  kind,  are  submission  to  the  Divine  will,  and  the 
slow  and  silent  operation  of  time." 

But  he  had  not  long  to  bear  the  complicated  evils 


PR.  JAMES    6EATTIE.  268 

of  mortality  ;  and  with  a  decayed  constitution,  and 
a  mind  unhinged  and  broken,  he  waited  the  final 
period  of  his  sutierings.  Repeated  paralytic  shocks 
preceded  his  dissolutic^n,  and  for  the  last  year  of  his 
life  deprived  him  wholly  of  the  power  of  motion, 
until  the  morning  of  Thursday,  August  18,  1803, 
when  it  pleased  the  Almighty  to  remove  him  from 
this  world  to  a  better,  in  the  68th  year  of  his  age, 
without  apparent  pain,  for  he  seemed  not  to  sutler, 
but  only  to  fall  asleep. 

But  though  long  dechning,  and  weary,  and  like  a 
bruised  reed  shaken  over  the  grave,  he  forsook  not 
his  hold  upon  the  strong  pillar  of  our  hope.  His 
piety  was  evinced,  not  merely  by  his  written  labors, 
or  his  regular  attendance  upon  the  public  ordinances 
of  religion,  but  by  his  unfeigned  resignation  to  the 
hand  that  afflicted  him,  and  the  unequivocal  testimony 
of  the  strict  performance  of  private  devotion.  The 
daughter  of  his  favorite  sister  who  resided  with  him 
till  his  death,  informs,  that "  after  he  had  retired  to  his 
chamber,  she  frequently  overheard  his  voice  ,  ren- 
dered audible  by  the  ardor  of  prayer ;  and  that 
throughout  the  day,  when  his  spirits  were  more  than 
usually  depressed,  she  could  perceive  that  he  was 
ofTering  up  his  orisons  to  heaven,  with  the  utmost 
fervor."  This  narrow  abstract  of  the  life  and  death 
of  a  good  man,  1  close  with  an  epitaph  of  his  own, 
designed  for  himself,  and  written  many  years  pre- 
vious to  his  death. 

Escap'd  the  jjloom  of  mortal  life,  a  soul 
Here  leaves  its  mould'ring  tenement  of  tiny, 
Safe,  where  no  cares  their  whelming  billows  roll, 
No  doubts  bewilder,  and  no  hojics  betray. 


264  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

Like  thee,  I  once  have  stemm'd  the  sea  of  hfe ; 
Like  thee,  have  languisli'd  after  empty  joys  ; 
Like  thee,  have  labor'd  in  the  stormy  strife ; 
Been  griev'd  for  trifles  and  amus'd  with  toys. 

Yet  for  a  while  'gainst  Passion's  threatful  blast 
Let  steady  Reason  urge  the  struggling  oar  ; 
Shot  through  the  dreary  gloom,  the  morn  at  last 
Gives  to  thy  longing  eye  the  blissful  shore. 

Forget  my  frailties,  thou  art  also  frail ; 
Forgive  my  lapses,  thou  thyself  may'st  fall ; 
Nor  read  unmov'd,  my  artless,  tender  tale, — 
I  was  a  friend,  O  man,  to  thee,  to  all. 


REV.  SAMUEL  STILLMAX. 


The  Rev.  Samuel    Stillman,  D.  D.  was  a  native 

of  Philadelphia,  born  Feb.  27,  1737,  educated  at 

Charleston,  in  South  Carolina,  ordained 

1737.  and  settled  in  the  ministry  at  James  Isl- 
and, near  Charleston,  in  the  22d  year  of 
his  age.  The  peculiar  nature  of  a  southern  climate, 
and  the  declining  state  of  his  health,  compelled  him 
to  part  from  this  pleasant  residence  after  continuing 
there  18  months.  A  temporary  recovery  enabled 
him  to  officiate  two  years  at  Bordenstown,  New 
Jersey,  and  with  constant  exertion  to  supply  two  va- 
cant congregations.  Afterwards  he  visited  New- 
England,  and  was  prevailed  upon  to  accept  the  care 
of  the  first  Baptist  Church  in  Boston,  where  he 
spent  the  remainder  of  his  days,  diffijsing  through  a 
wide  sphere  the  lustre  of  his  talents,  and  the  spirit 
of  his  virtues.  Nature  had  endowed  him  with  un- 
common quickness  of  apprehension,  and  feelings 
peculiarly  ardent  and  lively.  These  gave  activity 
to  all  his  pursuits,  and  under  the  control  of  religious 
principles,  greatly  increased  his  usefulness  and 
piety. 

This  constitutional  fervency  both  of  sentiment 
and  action  led  him  to  enter  with  his  whole  heart  into 
whatever  he  undertook ;  yet  it  was  united  with  a 
delicacy,  that  would  shrink  to  wound  the  feelings  of 
another,  and  with  such  easy  and  conciliating  man- 
22* 


266  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

ners,  as  to  adapt  himself  to  almost  every  society, 
without  diminishing  personal  dignity  and  respect. 
His  lively  interest  in  whatever  affected  his  friends, 
the  gentleness  of  his  reproofs,  and  the  gratification 
he  seemed  to  feel  in  commending  others,  endeared 
him  to  all  his  acquaintance.  It  is  said  that  the 
popularity  of  a  preacher  often  declines  with  his 
years,  but  to  this  doctrine  he  was  a  singular  excep- 
tion. For  more  than  48  years  he  deservedly  retained 
his  celebrity  ;  his  congregation,  from  a  small  number, 
became  one  of  the  largest  where  he  resided,  and  his 
praise  was  in  all  the  churches. 

His  eloquence  was  powerful  and  impressive  ;  his 
manner  so  strikingly  interesting,  that  he  never 
preached  to  an  inattentive  audience  ;  and  the  very 
tone  and  modulation  of  his  voice  admirably  calcu- 
lated to  awaken  the  feelings.  In  his  prayers  there 
was  a  fervor  that  seldom  failed  to  raise  the  devotion 
of  his  hearers ;  they  came  from  the  heart,  and 
reached  the  hearts  of  others.  Even  those  who 
dissented  from  him  in  the  minor  points  of  theologj", 
sought  to  hear  him,  for  they  knew  his  sincerity ; — 
they  knew  him  to  be  a  good  man,  and  that  what  he 
instructed  others  to  be,  he  himself  exemplified.  In 
the  chamber  of  sickness  and  aifliction,  he  appeared 
like  a  pitying  angel.  He  knew  how  to  comfort  or 
to  caution,  to  soothe,  to  awaken,  or  to  administer 
reproof,  in  so  mild  and  delicate  a  manner,  as  to 
touch,  without  distressing  the  feelings.  How  many 
wounded  hearts  he  has  bound  up,  from  how  many 
weeping  eyes  he  has  chased  tears,  to  how  many 
thoughtless  souls  brought  the  spirit  of  awakening ; 
how  many  saints  he  has  edified  and  built  up,  how 
many  wavering  minds  established,  how  many  re- 


REV.    SAMUEL   8TILLMAN.  267 

pentant  sinners  comforted,  can  never  be  fully  known 
until  the  judgment  of  the  great  day. 

His  domestic  character  was  in  perfect  imison 
with  his  public  ministrations.  Of  husbands,  he  was 
one  of  the  most  kind  and  accommodating ;  of 
parents,  the  most  affectionate  and  endearing.  It 
pleased  the  Author  of  wisdom  to  call  liim,  within 
the  space  of  a  few  years,  to  bury  seven  of  his 
children,  all  of  whom  had  reached  years  of  maturity, 
and  some  of  them  were  surrounded  by  infant  fami- 
lies. Yet  under  these  pecuhar  trials  he  was 
uniformly  patient  and  submissive,  and  his  mind  lost 
nothing  of  its  lively  confidence  and  cheerful  hope, 
for  it  rested,  with  strong  assurance,  upon  the  perfect 
wisdom  of  the  Eternal. 

His  constitution  from  infancy  was  delicate,  yet 
he  survived  almost  all  his  neighboring  clerical  con- 
temporaries. It  was  his  constant  prayer,  that  "  his 
life  and  his  usefulness  might  run  parallel,"  and  this 
desire  was  gratified.  Slight  indisposition  detained 
him  from  church  the  two  last  Sabbaths  of  his  Ufe, 
and  on  the  following  Wednesday,  without  any  pre- 
vious symptoms,  he  was  attacked  by  a  paralytic 
shock.  A  few  hours  after,  he  received  a  second 
stroke,  grew  insensible  and  expired. 

He  was  then  in  his  seventieth  year ;  just  touched 
the  boundary  of  the  life  of  man,  and,  as  it  were, 
wrapped  in  a  veil,  was  suddenly  taken  from  the  earth. 
Infinite  goodness  spared  him  the  pain  of  formal 
separation  from  a  flock  and  family,  whom  he  most 
tenderly  loved,  and  warmly  reciprocated  his  affection, 
and  whose  tears  must  long  continue  to  flow  at  tiie 
remembrance  of  the  friend  and  the  shepherd  who 
has  departed. 


REV.  JONATHABT  EDWARDS,  2d. 


Jonathan  Edwards,  was    the  second  son   of 
the  Rev.  Jonathan  Edwards,  President  of  Prince- 
ton College  ;  and  born  at  Northampton, 

1745.  May  26,  1745.  In  early  childhood  he 
was  affected  with  such  an  inveterate  in- 
flammation of  the  eyes,  as  to  prevent  his  learning 
to  read  until  a  much  later  period  than  is  common 
in  New  England,  although  his  capacity  was  early 
discoverable,  and  he  appeared  ambitious  of  excel- 
ling as  soon  as  the  mind  began  to  unfold  itself. 
The  obstinate  malady  that  so  long  discouraged  his 
exertions,  was  at  length  perceived  to  yield  to  the 
repeated  operation  of  shaving  the  head,  and  the 
hopes  of  his  parents  began  to  revive,  that  he  might 
not  be  altogether  lost  to  the  literary  world.  When 
he  arrived  at  his  sixth  year,  the  unhappy  dissension 
between  the  people  of  Northampton  and  his  father, 
terminated  in  his  dismission,  and  removal  to  Stock- 
bridge. 

While  here,  this  child  learned  so  perfectly  the 
language  of  the  Mohekanews  or  Stockbridge 
Indians,  that  the  natives  observed,  that  "  he  spoke 
exactly  like  themselves."  This  he  retained  through 
life ;  and  some  years  before  his  death  gave  the  pub- 
lic some  interesting  remarks  upon  its  construction 


REV.    JONATHAN    EDWARDS,    2d.  269 

and  peculiarities.  At  the  age  of  ten,  his  father, 
who  intended  him  for  a  missionary  among  the  Abo- 
rigines, sent  him  with  the  Rev.  Gideon  Ilawley,  to 
Oughqaugu,  on  the  Susquehannah  river,  to  acquire 
the  language  of  the  Oneida  tribe.  This  was  a 
distance  of  one  hundred  miles  from  any  English  set- 
tlement, directly  through  a  howling  wilderness,  yetthe 
courage  of  the  child  shrunk  not  at  the  undertaking, 
or  at  the  prospect  of  exchanging  the  ease  of  a 
father's  house,  for  the  unaccommodating  huts  of 
the  ravages.  He  made  a  rapid  progress  in  acquir- 
ing the  language,  and  so  gained  the  aftections  of 
the  untutored  natives,  tliat  when  their  settlement 
was  once  exposed  to  invasion,  they  took  him  upon 
their  shoulders,  and  carried  him  many  miles  through 
the  wilderness  to  a  place  of  safety. 

But  the  breaking  out  of  the  French  war,  render- 
ed his  stay  among  them  dangerous,  and  he  returned 
to  his  father,  and  some  years  after  removed,  with 
the  rest  of  his  family,  to  Princeton,  New  Jersey. 
In  his  seventeenth  year,  he  was  admitted  a  student 
at  Nassau  Hall,  and  in  the  second  year  of  his  con- 
tinuance there,  became  religiously  impressed,  and  ob- 
tained hope  of  reconciliation  to  God  through  Jesus 
Christ.  He  continued  for  a  time,  a  diary  of  his 
spiritual  state,  which  shows  his  constant  watch 
against  every  sin,  and  care  to  hve  a  holy  and  blame- 
less hfe.  In  his  18th  year,  he  publicly  dedicated 
himself  to  God,  and  the  following  covenant  and 
prayer  written  at  the  time,  show  the  deep  sense  that 
he  entertained  of  that  interesting  and  awful  solem- 
nity. 


270  BIOGRAPHY    OP    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

J^iTossan  Hall,  September  I7fh,  1763. 

"I,  Jonathan  Edwards,  student  of  the  college 
in  New  Jersey,  on  this  17th  day  of  September, 
1763,  being  the  day  before  the  first  time  I  propose 
to  draw  near  to  the  Lord's  table,  after  much  thought 
and  due  consideration,  as  well  as  prayer  to  Almigh- 
ty God,  for  his  assistance,  resolved  in  the  grace 
of  God,  to  enter  into  an  express  act  of  self-dedica- 
tion, to  the  service  of  God  ;  as  being  a  thing  highly 
reasonable  in  its  own  nature,  and  that  might  be  of 
eminent  service  to  keep  me  steady  in  the  Christian 
course,  to  rouse  me  from  sloth  and  indolence,  and 
uphold  me  in  the  day  of  temptation. 

Eternal  and  ever  blessed  God  !  I  desire,  with 
the  deepest  humiliation  and  abasement  of  soul,  to 
come,  in  the  name,  and  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  present  myself  before  thee,  sensible  of  my 
infinite  unworthiness  to  appear  before  thee,  and 
especially  on  such  an  occasion  as  this,  to  enter  into 
a  covenant  with  '  thee.  But  notwithstanding  my 
sins  have  made  such  a  separation  between  thee  and 
my  soul,  I  beseech  thee,  through  Christ  thy  son  to 
vouchsafe  thy  presence  with  me,  and  acceptance 
of  the  best  sacrifice  that  I  can  make.  I  do,  O 
Lord,  in  hopes  of  thy  assisting  grace,  solemnly 
make  an  entire  and  perpetual  surrender  of  all  I 
am  and  have  unto  thee,  being  determined  in  thy 
strength  to  renounce  all  former  Lords  w  ho  have 
had  dominion  over  me,  every  lust  of  the  eye,  of 
the  flesh,  and  of  the  mind,  and  to  live  entirely  devo- 
ted to  thee  and  to  thy  service.  To  thee  do  I  con- 
secrate the  powers  of  my  mind,  with  whatever 
improvements  thou  hast  already,  or  shalt  be  pleased 
hereafter  to  grant  me  in  the  literary  way:  purpos- 


REV.    JONATHAN    EDWARDS,   2D.  271 

iiig,  if  it  be  thy  good  pleasure,  to  pursue  my  studied 
assiduously,  that  I  may  be  better  prepared  to  act 
in  any  sphere  of  life  in  which  thou  shall  place 
me.  I  do  also  solemnly  dedicate  all  my  posses- 
sions, my  time,  my  influence  over  others,  to  be  all 
used  for  thy  glory.  To  thy  direction,  I  resign  myself 
and  all  that  I  have,  trusting  all  future  contingencies 
in  thine  hands,  and  may  thy  will  in  all  things,  and 
not  mine,  be  done.  Use  me,  0  Lord,  as  an  instru- 
ment in  thy  service.  I  beseech  thee,  number  me 
among  thy  |)eople.  May  I  be  clothed  with  the 
righteousness  of  thy  Son :  ever  impart  to  me 
through  him  all  needed  supplies  of  thy  purifying 
and  cheering  Spirit.  I  beseech  thee,  O  Lord,  that 
tliou  wouldcst  enable  me  to  live  according  to  this 
my  vow,  constantly  avoiding  all  sin  ;  and  when  I 
shall  come  to  die,  in  that  solemn  and  awful  hour, 
may  1  remember  this  my  covenant,  and  do  thou, 
O  Lord,  remember  it  too,  and  give  my  departed  spirit 
an  abundant  admittance  into  the  realms  of  bliss. 
And  if,  when  I  am  laid  in  the  dust,  any  surviving 
friend  should  meet  with  this  memorial,  may  it  be  a 
means  of  good  to  him,  and  do  thou  admit  him  to  par- 
take of  the  blessings  of  thy  covenant  of  grace, 
through  Jesus  the  great  Redeemer,  to  whom  with 
thee,  O  Father,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  be  ascribed 
everlasting  praises,  by  saints  and  angels.  Amen. 
Jonathan  Edwards." 

In  1765,  he  received  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of 
Arts;  in  1766  was  licensed,  as  a  minister;  1767, 
appointed  tutor  in  Princeton  College,  and  two  years 
at'ter,  ordained  pastor  over  the  church  of  AN  hite 
Uaven,  a  society  in  the  town  of  ^iew  Haven,  Con- 


272  BIOGRAFHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

necticut.  About  twelve  years  after  his  settlement, 
he  met  with  an  affliction  that  severely  tried  his 
fortitude  as  a  man,  and  his  resignation  as  a  Christian. 

One  fine  day  in  the  summer,  while  taking  an 
airing  in  his  chaise,  with  his  wife,  in  a  pleasant  part 
of  the  vicinity,  he  was  called  to  attend  to  some  ne- 
cessary business,  and  wished  her  to  return  without 
him.  As  she  proceeded  homeward,  she  suffered 
the  horse  to  drink  at  a  watering  place  iaa  small  river, 
when  he  suddenly  plunged,  fell,  and  threw  her  from 
her  seat — to  a  watery  grave.  This  amiable  and 
excellent  lady  left  behind  her  four  children,  who 
with  their  father,  sustained  by  this  event  an  unex- 
pected and  irreparable  loss.  The  residence  of  Dr. 
Edwards  at  White  Haven,  had  long  been  rendered 
unpleasant,  by  the  opposite  religious  opinions, 
maintained  by  many  of  his  most  influential  parish- 
ioners, and  therefore  at  the  mutual  request  of  pastor 
and  people,  he  was  dismissed  by  an  ecclesiastical 
council,  in  May,  1795,  having  officiated  there  more 
than  twenty-five  years. 

A  few  months  after  he  was  unanimously  chosen 
the  minister  of  Colebrook,  (Conn.)  and  found  him- 
self placed  in  the  midst  of  an  affectionate  people, 
and  in  a  retired  situation,  very  favorable  to  the  pro- 
secution of  his  beloved  studies.  From  this  spot, 
which  was  much  endeared  to  him,  he  was  parted  by 
a  call  to  tlie  Presidency  of  Union  College,  which 
had  recently  been  instituted  and  endowed,  in  the 
town  of  Schenectady,  and  state  of  New  York. 
Hither  he  removed  in  July,  1 799,  and  assiduously 
devoted  his  talents  and  attention,  to  the  improve- 
ment and  welfare  of  this  infant  seminary. 

In  the  second  year  after  his  investment  with  that 


REV.    JONATHAN  EDWARDS,  2d.  273 

important  and  responsible  dignity,  he  was  attacked 
with  a  lever,  whose  rapid  progress  deprived  him  of 
speech,  motion,  at  intervals  of  reason,  and  eventu- 
aJly  of  life,  on  the  1st  of  August,  1801.  The  ef- 
fects of  his  disorder  prevented  him  from  expressing 
his  feelings  at  the  near  approach  of  eternity,  but  in 
its  early  stages  he  expressed  entire  and  cheerful  re- 
signation to  the  will  of  God ;  and  now,  we  trust,  he 
reaps  the  reward  of  his  labors,  of  his  prayers,  and 
of  his  piety. 

This  departed  saint,  when  a  child,  was  singularly 
.dutiful  and  conscientious,  and  throughout  all  the 
changes  of  life  the  same  spirit  was  discernible. 
From  nature  he  received  an  ardent,  irritable  dispo- 
sition, and  early  formed  a  resolution,  to  withstand 
this  propensity,  until  it  should  be  subdued.  And 
let  those  who  are  formed  like  him,  and  like  him 
painfully  "  strive  for  the  mastery,"  know,  that  by 
vigilance,  by  firmness  and  prayer,  he  accomplished 
this  arduous  task,  and  acquired  such  an  unusual 
command  over  his  passions,  as  to  pass  through 
some  of  the  most  trying  circumstances  in  which 
man  can  be  placed,  with  uncommon  patience  and 
equanimity.  Like  St.  Paul,  he  knew  what  it  was 
to  be  abased,  and  what  it  was  to  abound ;  and  in 
prosperity  and  adversity  he  appeared  the  same. 
His  fortitude  under  trials  was  great ;  not  the  frigid 
apathy  of  stoicism,  but  a  constant  reliance  on  Di- 
vine Providence,  and  resignation  to  its  will. 

As  a  man  of  learning  and  strength  of  mind,  he 
had  not  a  superior  in  the  United  States,  and  proba- 
bly but  few  in  the  world.  His  logical  powers  were 
preeminent,  and  little  inferior  to  those  of  his  father ; 
and  his  talents  were  improved  for  the  defence,  sup- 
23 


274  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

port  and  advancement  of  the  religion  that  he  loved. 
As  a  preacher,  his  manner  of  dehvery  was  bold  and 
animated,  addressed  more  to  the  understanding  and 
conscience  than  to  the  passions  ;  yet  all  who  had 
the  pleasure  to  hear  him,  acknowledge,  that  in  his 
own  mode,  he  was  rarely,  if  ever  excelled.  His 
reasonings  were  strong  and  conclusive,  closely  con- 
fined to  the  subject,  original  and  instructive. 

President  Edwards,  as  a  son,  a  husband,  a  parent 
and  member  of  society,  was  faithful  and  exemplary. 
In  his  manner  of  life  he  was  strictly  methodical. 
Being  blessed  with  good  health,  he  generally  rose 
early,  and  began  his  regular  diurnal  routine  of  duty 
and  business ;  considering  his  immediate  duty  to  his 
Creator,  as  requiring  his  firstattention,  and  afterwards 
the  relative  and  social  duties  of  life.  His  exercise, 
studies,  and  all  other  concerns,  so  far  as  might  be 
consistent  with  his  parochial  duties,  were  systema- 
tized, and  uniformly  attended  in  their  respective 
seasons.  He  merited  and  possessed  the  esteem 
and  affection  of  an  extensive  literary  and  clerical 
acquaintance,  who  looked  upon  him,  under  God, 
as  one  of  the  firmest  pillars  and  ablest  defenders  of 
the  church,  in  a  day  of  declension  and  infidelity  ; 
and  in  his  death,  both  science  and  religion  sustained 
a  loss,  which  the  hand  that  caused  can  alone  repair. 
His  literary  productions  are,  a  work  entitled,  "  The 
Salvation  of  all  men,  strictly  examined,  and  the 
endless  punishment  of  those  who  die  impenitent, 
argued  and  defended  against  the  reasonings  of  Dr. 
Chauncey ;"  "a  dissertation  of  Liberty  and  Necessi- 
ty ;"  "  Observations  on  the  language  of  the  Stock- 
bridge  Indians ;"  "  Three  sermons  on  the  atone- 
ment of  Christ,"  and   a  variety  of  occasional  dis- 


REV.    JONATHAN    EDWARDS,   2d.  275 

courses.  He  edited,  also,  several  posthumous 
works  of  his  father,  and  left  behind  him  many  man- 
uscripts worthy  of  pubhcation. 

To  comprise  in  one  short  sentence  the  excellen- 
cies of  this  great  man,  let  it  be  recorded,  that  he 
was  a  son  loorthy  of  his  parents ;  and  to  those  who 
were  acquainted  with  those  patterns  of  piety,  this 
will  comprehend  all  that  has  been  written,  and  all 
that  might  be  said.  Between  him  and  his  father, 
striking  features  of  resemblance  exist.  They  were 
both  distinguished  scholars ;  tutors  of  the  semina- 
ries where  they  were  educated  ;  settled  in  congre- 
gations in  which  their  maternal  grandfathers  were 
settled  before  them ;  dismissed  on  account  of  their 
religious  opinions ;  settled  again  in  retired  situa- 
tions ;  elected  to  the  Presidency  of  a  college,  and 
within  a  short  time  after  their  inauguration,  died,  the 
one  in  his  66th,  the  other  in  his  67th  year.  In  per- 
son, mind  and  life,  they  were  also  remarkably  similar» 
and  to  them  has  sometimes  been  applied  the  em- 
phatic eulogium  of  Shakespeare, 

"  Take  them  all  in  all, 

You  nc'or  will  look  upon  their  like  again." 


SIR  WILLIAM  JONES. 


This  illustrious  man  was  born  in  Wales,  in  the 
year  1746.  His  father  was  the  famous  mathema- 
tician, William  Jones,  who  studied  niath- 

1746.  ematics  under  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  and  was 
at  once  his  pupil  and  his  friend.  Under 
the  guidance  and  tuition  of  such  a  parent,  the  mind 
of  the  son  was  early  formed  to  regular  habits  of 
thinking,  and  endued  with  the  generous  enthusiasm 
of  literary  fame.  After  acquiring  at  home,  the  rudi- 
ments of  classical  learning,  he  was  placed  at  school, 
where  he  distinguished  himself  by  his  wonderful 
facility  in  acquiring  the  learned  languages,  and  by 
a  fine  taste  in  Latin  poetry.  He  was  soon  made  a 
fellow  of  the  university  of  Oxford,  where  he  was 
equally  distinguished  for  prematurity  of  mind,  and 
unexampled  diligence  in  study.  Before  he  attained 
the  age  of  twenty-two,  he  had  acquired  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  Hebrew,  Greek  and  Latin,  Per- 
sian and  Arabic  tongues.  He  had  also  cultivated 
the  polished  languages  of  modern  Europe,  and  his 
knowledge  of  the  French  was  so  perfect,  that  while 
he  was  a  recluse  student  at  the  university,  he  trans- 
lated the  history  of  Nadir  Shaw  from  Persian  into 
French,  with  such  grammatical  exactness,  and  ele- 


SIR   WILLIAM    JONES.  277 

gance  of  diction,  as  obtained  the  applause  of  the 
most  judicious  critics  in  France. 

About  this  time  he  published  his  "  Commenta- 
ries on  Asiatic  Poetry."  At  the  age  of  24,  he  de- 
termined to  attach  himself  to  the  profession  of  law, 
and  with  his  studies  in  general  jurisprudence,  and 
the  common  law  of  England,  united  physical  sci- 
ences, and  pursued,  with  amazing  rapidity,  his  re- 
searches into  the  literature  of  Asia.  He  published 
a  number  of  ingenious  essays  in  prose,  and  a  vol- 
ume of  poems,  consisting  chiefly  of  translations 
from  Arabic,  Persian  and  Turkish  authors.  The 
reputation  of  his  genius  and  learning  began  to  ex- 
tend itself,  and  his  acquaintance  to  be  sought  by 
men  of  the  first  rank  and  literature.  Through  the 
friendship  of  Dr.  Johnson  and  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds, he  was  introduced  to  the  Literary  Society,  of 
which  he  continued  a  member,  until  his  embarka- 
tion for  India,  in  1783,  having  been  appointed  one 
of  the  judges  of  the  supreme  court  of  Calcutta. 

After  his  arrival,  and  introduction  to  office,  he 
proposed  a  plan  for  instituting  a  society  "  for  the 
purpose  of  inquiring  into  the  history,  arts,  sciences 
and  literature  of  Asia."  This  proposal  was  patro- 
nized by  Mr.  Hastings,  the  governor  general,  and 
eagerly  embraced  by  those  gentlemen  in  Calcutta, 
who  were  best  qualified  to  estimate  its  advantages, 
and  to  contribute  to  its  support.  Sir  WiUiam  Jones 
was  elected  perpetual  president  of  this  new  formed 
society,  and  delivered  his  preliminary  discourse  in 
1784.  The  wide  and  fruitful  region  of  Asiatic 
learning  was  now  opened  before  him,  while  his 
high  and  independent  station  gave  him  a  command- 
ing prospect  of  it,  and  furnished  him  full  scope  for 
23* 


278  BIOGRAPHy    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

the  energy  of  a  powerful  mind.  In  the  exercise  of 
his  profession,  he  administered  to  his  fellow  crea- 
tures the  pure  maxims  of  justice  and  of  truth,  and 
obeyed  those  laws  which  it  was  his  business  to  en- 
force on  others. 

He  had  long  ardently  desired  to  study  the  San- 
scrit language,  and  in  three  years  made  himself  so 
completely  master  of  it,  that  the  most  enlightened 
professors  of  the  doctrine  of  Brahma,   confessed 
with  pride,  delight  and  surprise,  that  his  knowledge 
of  their  sacred  dialect  was  most  critically  correct 
and  profound.     Their  respect  and  attachment  con- 
tinued to  the  last ;  and  the  Pundits  who  were  in  the 
habit  of  attending  him,  felt  the  highest  admiration  of 
his  superior  talents  and  virtues,  and  uttered  poig- 
nant lamentations  at  his  death.     He  applied  him- 
self to  his  studies  with  pertinacious  and  unwearied 
diUgence,  and  notwithstanding  the  great  attention 
which  his  professional  duties  required,  and  the  labor 
of  preparing  many  learned  discourses  for  the  Asiatic 
Society,  he  found  time  to  compose  and  pubUsh 
some  curious  and  important  works.     The  principal 
were  an  English  version  of  the  Sirajijah,  or  Maho- 
metan law  of  inheritance,  with  a  commentary;  the 
Institutes  of   Menu  literally    translated    from  the 
Sanscrit,  with  a  learned  preface,  treating  of  the  an- 
tiquity and  value  of  the  work,  and  an  elegant  trans- 
lation of  the  drama  of  Sancontala,  from  the  same 
language.      The  first  of  these  performances   he 
printed  at  his  own  expense,  and  sold  for  the  benefit 
of  insolvent  debtors ;  an  act  of  such  disinterested 
benevolence,  as  ought  to  be  transmitted  to  posterity. 
He  had  engaged  in  a  copious  digest  of  the  Ma- 
hometan and  Hindoo  law,  compiled  from  Arab  and 


SIR  WILLIAM    JONES.  279 

Sanscrit  originals :  but  the  strong  hand  of  death  ar- 
rested the  progress  of  the  performance.  In  April, 
1794,  he  was  attacked  by  a  bilious  complaint,  which 
in  a  few  weeks  baffled  the  skill  of  the  physicians. 
The  last  hour  of  his  life  was  marked  by  a  most  sol- 
emn act  of  devotion.  Finding  his  dissolution  rap- 
idly approaching,  he  desired  his  attendants  to  carry 
him  to  an  inner  apartment,  and  leave  him  awhile  to 
himself.  Returning,  after  an  interval,  they  found 
him  in  a  kneeling  attitude  of  prayer,  with  his  hands 
clasped,  and  his  eyes  fixed  towards  heaven,  and  as 
they  were  removing  him — he  expired. 

The  person  of  Sir  William  Jones  was  genteel 
and  graceful ;  his  countenance,  open,  manly,  viva- 
cious and  serene.  His  deportment  was  dignified, 
yet  easy :  his  address,  courteous,  yet  plain :  his 
manners,  polished  yet  familiar.  Hence,  at  first  ac- 
quaintance, he  not  only  excited  the  admiration,  but 
acquired  the  esteem,  of  those  with  whom  he  con- 
versed. In  conversation,  he  illustrated  in  a  pleas- 
ing manner  every  topic  which  was  discussed,  and 
conveyed  instruction  with  a  modesty  and  elegance 
that  captivated,  while  it  enriched  the  mind.  The 
placidity  and  gentleness  for  which  he  was  distin- 
guished, did  not  proceed  from  constitutional  tame- 
ness  and  languor,  but  from  the  union  of  tempe- 
rance and  UberaUty,  which  virtuous  habits  had  form- 
ed in  his  mind.  He  was  sedate,  moderate  and 
cautious ;  but  at  the  same  time  animated,  aspiring, 
and  generous.  He  possessed  a  proud  honor,  an 
inflexible  firmness,  and  a  high  sense  of  justice  ;  yet 
he  had  not  in  his  disposition  either  haughtiness, 
obstinacy  or  austerity.  His  pride  consisted  in  the 
love  of  independence ;  his  resolution,  in  shunning 
the  temptations  of  vice ;  his  idea  of  equity,  in  pro- 


280  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

moting  peace  and  happiness  among  men,  by  mak- 
ing the  laws  lovely  rather  than  severe. 

He  was  no  less  estimable  in  public  than  in  pri- 
vate life.  Whether  we  consider  his  fine  taste,  the 
strength  of  his  mental  faculties,  or  the  vast  extent 
and  variety  of  his  acquirements,  we  are  equally 
surprised  by  his  talents.  His  intellectual  powers 
were  of  the  highest  order.  The  clearness  of  his 
understanding  no  paradox  could  perplex ;  the 
quickness  of  his  perception  ran  through  systems  at 
a  glance  ;  the  solidity  of  his  judgment,  even  his 
lively  fancy  could  not  warp ;  and  nothing  useful 
or  elegant  escaped  the  retentive  vigor  of  his  memo- 
ry. To  these  properties,  he  added  a  fertile  imagi- 
nation, a  capacious  comprehension,  and  an  elasti- 
city of  mind,  which  gave  activity  to  all  the  opera- 
tions of  genius.  His  mind,  thus  constituted, 
was  enriched  with  the  collective  science  and  learn- 
ing of  all  times,  ages,  and  nations  ;  and  elevated 
by  a  piety,  which  gave  lustre,  dignity  and  consis- 
tency to  the  whole. 

Sir  John  Shore,  in  a  discourse  delivered  before 
a  convention  of  the  Asiatic  Society,  soon  after  the 
melancholy  event  of  his  death,  observes, — "  I  have 
already  enumerated  attainments  and  works,  which, 
from  their  diversity  and  extent,  seem  far  beyond  the 
capacity  of  the  most  enlarged  minds  ;  but  the  cata- 
logue may  yet  be  augmented.  To  a  proficiency  in 
the  languages  of  Greece,  Rome  and  Asia,  he  add- 
ed the  knowledge  of  the  philosophy  of  those  coun- 
tries, and  of  every  thing  curious  and  valuable  in 
them.  The  doctrines  of  the  Academy,  and  the  Ly- 
ceum of  the  Portico,  were  not  more  familiar  to  him, 
than  the  tenets  of  the  Vcdas,  the  mysticism  of  the 
Susis,  or  the  religion  of  the  ancient  Persians ;  and 


SIR    WILLIAM    JONES.  281 

while  with  a  kindred  genius,  he  pursued  with  rap- 
ture the  heroic,  lyric,  or  moral  compositions  of  the 
most  renowned  poets  of  Greece,  Rome  and  Asia, 
he  could  turn  with  equal  deUght  and  knowledge  to 
the  sublime  speculations,  or  mathematical  calcula- 
tions, of  Barrow  and  of  Newton.  With  them  also 
he  professed  his  conviction  of  the  truth  of  the 
Christian  religion,  and  justly  deemed  it  no  incon- 
siderable advantage,  that  his  researches  had  corro- 
borated the  multiplied  evidence  of  revelation,  by 
confirming  the  Mosaic  account  of  the  primitive 
world." 

It  may  perhaps  be  acceptable  to  our  readers  to 
peruse  an  epitaph  which  this  great  and  good  man 
composed  for  himself  some  time  previous  to  his 
death. 

"  Here  lie  deposited 

The  mortal  remains  of  a  man 

Who  feared  God,  but  not  death ; 

And  maintained  independence, 

But  soiiirht  not  riches : 

who  thought 

None  below  him  but  the  base  and  unjust : 

None  above  him  but  the  wise  and  virtuous. 

Who  loved 

His  parents,  kindred,  friends,  country, 

With  an  ardor, 

Which  was  the  chief  source  of 

All  his  pleasures,  and  all  his  pains  ; 

And  who  having  devoted 

His  life  to  the  service  and  to 

The  improvement  of  his  mind, 

Resigned  it  calmly, 

Giving  ulory  to  his  <  reator, 

Wishing  peace  on  earth 

and 

Good  will  to  all  creatures, 

In  the  year  of  our  blessed  Redeemer, 

17a4." 


HON.  SAMUEL  OSGOOD. 


The  Honorable  Samuel  Osgood,  a  native  of  An- 
dover,  Massachusetts,  was  born  on  the  14th  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1748.  His  parents  paid  much 
1748.  attention  to  the  religious  part  of  his  ed- 
ucation, and  so  early  and  lasting  were 
his  impressions,  that  he  cherished  a  hope  of  saving 
conversion  at  the  age  of  15.  In  youth  he  was  ad- 
mitted a  member  of  Harvard  University,  and  ob- 
tained the  reputation  of  a  good  general  scholar.  His 
most  striking  proficiency  was  in  the  Greek  language, 
and  the  science  of  mathematics  ;  in  the  former  he 
was  acknowledged  to  be  the  first  in  his  class,  and, 
at  his  graduation,  was  chosen  from  the  whole  num- 
ber of  candidates,  to  the  honor  of  writing  the  math- 
ematical thesis.  After  exchanging  the  seclusion  of 
study  for  the  theatre  of  active  UTe,  he  took  an  active 
and  decided  part  in  the  difterences  which  arose  be- 
tween this  country  and  Great  Britain.  His  talents, 
judgment  and  information  were  soon  percieved  and 
appreciated,  and  he  was  rapidly  elevated  to  places 
of  trust,  and  offices  of  dignity.  He  executed,  to 
universal  acceptance,  the  duties  of  Representative 
and  Senator  in  his  native  State,  member  of  the  Gen- 
eral Congress,  and  fixst  commissioner  of  the  Treas- 
ury. 


HON.   SAMUEL  OSTGOOD.  283 

The  penetrating,  virtuous  Washington,  placed 
him  in  the  department  of  Post  Master  General ; — 
the  city  of  New  York  selected  him  as  a  member  of 
their  house  of  Representatives,  and  that  legislative 
body  invested  him  with  the  honors  of  Speaker.  In 
1801,  he  has  appointed  Supervisor  of  the  State  of 
New  York,  and  after  the  abolition  of  that  office,  was 
named  as  N  aval  Officer  for  the  port  of  New  York, 
a  post  in  which  he  continued  till  death.  The  ab- 
sorbing duties  of  these  important  stations,  and  the 
full  tide  of  honor  that  rapidly  poured  upon  him,  did 
not  prevent  the  contemplation  of  the  one  thing  need- 
ful, or  destroy  the  sincere  humility  of  the  Christian. 
Looking  back  upon  a  life  active  and  beneficent  he 
would  say  with  diffidence  and  contrition,  "  my  his- 
tory for  forty  years,  would  contain  but  a  gloomy  ac- 
count of  omissions  of  duty,  and  commissions  of 
sin."  He  complained  of  lifelessness  in  the  cause 
of  his  Redeemer,  and  the  withdrawings  of  spir- 
itual comfort,  though  he  still  retained  the  hope  of 
forgiveness  and  acceptance. 

Far  from  adopting  that  silence  on  religious  sub- 
jects which  too  often  characterizes  the  professors  of 
the  present  day,  he  was  forward  to  converse  on  the 
state  and  expectation  of  his  soul.  Though  the 
church,  of  which  he  was  an  elder,  was  benefited  by 
his  labors,  and  by  his  prayers,  and  though  the  light 
of  his  course  appeared  to  be  that  of  the  just,  yet 
deeply  distrustful  of  his  merits,  it  was  his  supreme 
delight  to  cast  himself  upon  Jesus  Christ,  as  Jeho- 
vah his  righteousness."  The  three  last  years  of  his 
life  were  marked  with  tranquillity,  retirement  and  de- 
votion.   Though  naturally  cheerful,  and  uncommon- 


284  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

ly  affable  in  his  manners,  he  was  frequently  con- 
templative, and  sometimes  pensive. 

His  last  illness  was  protracted  and  painful,  but  he 
bore  it  with  undeviating  resignation,  aud  with  more 
than  his  usual  portion  of  cheerfulness.  The  divin- 
ity and  infinite  power  of  Him  who  had  undertaken 
for  him,  gave  his  mind  much  consolation.  Re- 
clining on  his  dying  pillow  he  said  with  deep  solem- 
nity, "  Bound  as  I  am  to  eternity,  I  can  rest  on  no- 
thing short  of  a  Saviour,  a  Saviour  who  is  iruhj 
God  .?"  Underneath  him  were  the  everlasting  arms,^ 
and  he  calmly  entered  into  his  rest,  on  the  12th  oC 
August,  1813,  in  the  66th  year  of  his  age. 

Not  many  who  have  basked  in  honor's  smile, 
Not  many  who  the  paths  of  wealth  have  trod, 
Have  turned  their  eyes  from  Earth's  deceitful  wile^ 
To  seek  the  favor  and  the  fear  of  God. 

Yet  one  there  was — on  whom  the  flowing  stream 
Of  ghttering  wealth  no  proud  delusion  wrought ; 
Yes — one  there  was — who,  bright  with  hunor's  beam,, 
B  jwed  to  the  humble  rule  that  Christ  had  taught. 

Gone  now — a  purer  fount  of  bliss  to  f  aste — 
Gone— to  his  last  ineflable  reward, 
For  so  we  trust,  that  with  an  angel's  haste 
He  left  this  darkening  earth  and  saw  his  Lord. 


ELIZA  CUNNINGHAM. 


An  account  of  this  most  amiable  and   interesting 

young  person  is  given  to  the  public,  by  the  Rev. 

John  Newton,  whose  niece  she  was, 

1771.  and  in  whose  family  she  spent  the  last 
years  of  her  life.  Suddenly  bereaved 
of  her  excellent  parents,  and  an  only  brother  and 
sister  whom  she  tenderly  loved,  the  lonely  orphan 
found  the  arms  of  her  relatives  open  to  receive  her, 
and  in  their  sympathy  forgot,  for  a  while,  the  an- 
guish of  those  sorrows  which  gloomed  the  morning 
of  her  life.  In  a  languishing  state  of  health,  she 
journeyed  from  Scotland  to  England,  to  put  herself 
under  the  protection  of  that  kind  uncle,  to  whom 
her  dying  mother  had  bequeathed  her,  and  I  know 
not  how  to  express  the  interesting  particulars  of  her 
short  life  so  well,  as  by  borrowing  the  words  of  her 
pious  and  affectionate  biographer. 

"  Wc  received  our  dear  Eliza,  as  a  trust,  and  as 
a  treasure,  on  the  15th  of  March,  1783,  just  as  she 
had  entered  her  12th  year.  We  were  prepared  to 
love  her,  before  we  saw  her  ;  but  she  came  into  our 
hands  like  a  heap  of  untold  gold,  which,  when 
counted,  proves  a  larger  sum  than  was  expected. 
Her  person  was  agreeable.  There  was  an  ease 
and  elegance  in  her  whole  address,  and  a  graccful- 
24 


286  BIOGRAPHY   OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

ness  in  her  movements,  until  long  illness  and  great 
weakness  bowed  down  her  frame.  Her  disposition 
was  lively,  her  genius  quick  and  inventive,  and  if 
she  had  enjoyed  health,  she  would  probably  have 
excelled  in  every  thing  she  attempted  that  required 
ingenuity.  Her  understanding,  particularly  her  judg- 
ment, and  sense  of  propriety,  was  far  above  her 
years,  and  there  was  something  in  her  appearance 
which  usually  procured  her  favor  at  first  sight. 

But  her  principal  endearing  qualities,  which  could 
be  only  fully  known  to  us  who  hved  with  her,  were 
the  sweetness  of  her  temper,  and  a  heart  formed 
for  the  exercise  of  affection,  gratitude  and  friendship. 
I  know  not  that  either  her  aunt  or  I,  ever  saw  a 
cloud  upon  her  countenance  during  the  whole  time 
she  was  with  us.  It  is  true  we  did  not,  we  could 
not,  unnecessarily  cross  her  ;  but  if  we  thought  it 
expedient  to  overrule  any  proposal  she  made,  she 
always  acquiesced  with  a  sweet  smile,  and  we  were 
sure  we  should  never  hear  of  that  proposal  again.  Her 
delicacy,  however,  was  quicker  than  our  observation, 
and  she  would  sometimes  say,  when  we  could  not 
perceive  the  least  reason  for  it, — '  I  am  afraid  I  an- 
swered you  peevishly.  Indeed,  I  did  not  intend  it. 
If  I  did,  I  ask  your  pardon.  I  should  be  very  un- 
grateful if  I  thought  any  pleasure  equal  to  that  of 
endeavoring  to  please  you  ?"  It  is  no  wonder  that 
we  dearly  loved  such  a  child. 

The  hectic  fever,  cough,  and  sweats,  which  Eliza 
brought  with  her  from  Scotland,  were  subdued  in 
the  course  of  the  summer,  and  there  appeared  no 
reason  to  apprehend  immediate  danger.  But  stjil 
there  was  a  worm  preying  at  the  root  of  this  beauti- 
ful gourd.     8hu  had  seldom  any  pain  till  within  the 


EUZA    CUNNINGHAM.  287 

last  fortnight  of  her  life,  and  usually  slept  well,  but 
when  awake  was  always  ill.  I  believe  she  knew 
not  a  single  hour  of  perfect  ease,  and  they  who  in- 
timately knew  her  state,  could  not  but  wonder  to  see 
her  so  placid,  cheerful  and  attentive  in  company,  as 
she  generally  was.  Many  a  time  when  the  tears 
have  stolen  silently  down  her  cheeks,  if  she  saw  that 
her  aunt  or  I  observed  them,  she  would  wipe  them 
away,  come  to  us  with  a  smile  and  a  kiss,  and  say, 
♦  Do  not  be  uneasy,  I  am  not  very  ill — I  can  bear  it, 
and  shall  be  better  presently.'  Her  case  was  thought 
beyond  the  reach  of  medicine,  and  for  a  time  no 
medicine  was  used.  She  had  air  and  exercise,  as 
the  weather  and  circumstances  would  permit,  and 
the  rest  of  the  time  amused  herself  as  well  as  she 
could  with  her  guitar,  or  harpsichord,  her  book,  or 
her  needle.  She  had  a  part,  likewise,  when  able, 
in  such  visits  as  we  paid  or  received,  and  these  were 
generally  regulated  by  a  regard  to  what  she  could 
bear.  Her  aunt,  especially,  seldom  went  abroad, 
but  at  such  times,  and  to  such  places,  as  we  thought 
agreeable  and  convenient  to  her.  For  we  perceiv- 
ed that  she  loved  home  best,  and  best  of  all  when 
we  were  at  home  with  her. 

In  April,  1784,  we  put  her  under  the  care  of  my 
dear  friend.  Dr.  Benamor.  To  the  divine  blessing 
on  his  skill  and  endeavors,  I  ascribe  the  pleasure 
of  having  her  continued  with  us  so  long.  She  is 
now  gone,  and  can  no  more  repeat  what  she  has 
often  spoken  of— the  great  comfort  it  was  to  her, 
to  have  so  affectionate  and  sympathizing  a  physi- 
cian ; — but  while  I  hve,  I  hope  it  will  always  be  my 
pleasure  to  express  my  gratitude  for  his  unwearied 
attention,  and  for  his  great  tenderness.     But  what 


288  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

can  the  most  efficacious  medicines,  or  the  best  phy- 
sicians avail  to  prolong  life,  when  the  hour  approach- 
es in  which  the  prayer  of  the  Great  Intercessor 
must  be  accomplished — "Father,  I  will,  that  they 
whom  thou  hast  given  me,  may  be  with  me  where  I 
am,  to  behold  my  glory." — This  was  the  proper 
cause  of  my  dear  Eliza's  death.  The  Lord  sent 
her  to  me  to  be  brought  up  for  him,  owned  my  poor 
endeavors,  and  when  her  education  was  completed, 
took  her  home  to  himself.  He  has  richly  paid  me 
my  wages,  in  the  employment  itself,  and  in  the  hap- 
py issue. 

She  was  advised  by  her  physicians  to  make  trial  of 
the  salt  water,  and  we  passed  a  month  with  her  at 
Southampton  and  at  Lymington.  The  bathing  was 
evidently  useful  in  giving  some  additional  strength 
to  her  very  weak  and  relaxed  frame,  and  we  were 
thus  encouraged  to  repeat  our  visit  the  ensuing  au- 
tumn. But  though  she  bathed  a  few  times  she  could 
not  persevere,  and  when  she  returned,  she  entered 
our  door  for  the  last  time,  for  she  went  out  no  more, 
till  she  was  carried  out  to  be  put  into  her  hearse. 
We  have  now  come  to  the  last  three  weeks  of  her 
pilgrimage — the  most  important  and  interesting  peri- 
od of  her  short  life.  Her  excellent  parents  had 
conscientiously  endeavored  to  bring  her  up  in  the 
nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,  and  the  princi- 
ples of  religion  had  been  instilled  into  her  from  her 
infancy.  Their  labors  were  so  far  attended  with 
success,  that  no  child  could  be  more  obedient  or 
obliging,  or  more  remote  from  evil  habits  and  dis- 
positions ;  but  I  could  not  perceive,  when  she  first 
came  to  us,  that  she  had  any  heart  affecting  sense 
of  divine  things.     Bu(  being  under  my  roof,  she  of 


BLIZA   CUNNINGHAM.  289 

course  attended  my  ministry,  when  her  health  would 
permit,  and  was  usually  present  when  I  prayed  and 
expounded  the  Scriptures,  morning  and  evening,  in 
my  family.  Friends  and  ministers  were  likewise 
frequently  with  us,  whose  character  and  conversa- 
tion were  well  suited  to  engage  her  notice,  and  to 
help  her  to  form  a  right  idea  of  the  Christian  prin- 
ciples and  temper. 

Knowing  that  she  was  of  a  thinking  turn,  I  left 
her  to  make  her  own  reflections  upon  what  she  saw 
and  heard,  committing  her  to  the  Lord,  from  whom 
I  had  received  her,  and  entreating  him  to  be  her  ef- 
fectual teacher.  When  I  did  attempt  to  talk  with 
her  upon  the  concerns  of  her  soul,  she  could  give 
me  no  answer  but  with  tears.  But  I  soon  had  great 
encouragement  to  hope  that  the  Lord  had  enlight- 
ened her  understanding,  and  had  drawn  the  desires 
of  her  heart  to  himself.  Great  was  her  delight  in 
the  ordinances  ; — exemplary  her  attention  to  preach- 
ing ;  and  to  be  debarred  from  going  to  hear  at  our 
stated  times,  was  a  trial  which,  though  she  patiently 
bore,  seemed  to  affect  her  more  than  any  other,  and 
she  did  not  greatly  care  what  she  suffered  in  the 
week,  provided  she  was  able  to  attend  the  worship 
on  the  Sabbath. 

The  judicious  observations  she  occasionally  made 
upon  what  had  passed  in  conversation,  upon  inci- 
dents, books,  and  sermons,  indicated  a  sound  judg- 
ment, and  a  spiritual  taste.  And  my  hope  was  con- 
firmed by  her  whole  deportment,  which  was  becom- 
ing the  gospel  of  Christ.  So  that  had  she  died  sud- 
denly, on  any  day  of  the  last  18  months  of  her  life, 
I  should  have  had  no  doubt  of  her  eternal  felicity. 
But  I  could  seldom  prevail  with  her  to  speak  of 
24* 


290  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

herself;  if  she  did  it  was  with  the  utmost  caution 
and  diffidence.  Soon  after  her  last  return  from 
Southampton,  she  became  acquainted  witii  acute 
pain.  Her  gentle  spirit  which  had  borne  up  under 
long  and  languishing  illness,  sunk  under  this  an- 
guish, and  though  it  occasioned  no  impatience  or 
repining,  it  rapidly  destroyed  her  frame.  On  Fri- 
day, the  30th  of  September,  she  was  down  stairs 
for  the  last  time,  and  then  she  was  brought  down 
and  carried  up  in  our  arms.  It  now  became  very 
desirable  to  hear  from  herself  a  more  explicit  ac- 
count of  the  hope  that  was  in  her ;  especially,  as 
upon  some  symptoms  of  approaching  mortification, 
she  appeared  to  be  a  httlc  alarmed,  and,  of  course, 
not  thoroughly  reconciled  to  the  thoughts  of  death. 
Her  aunt  waited  for  the  first  convenient  opportunity 
of  intimating  to  her  that  the  time  of  her  departure 
was  probably  at  hand. 

The  next  morning  presented  one.  She  found 
herself  remarkably  better,  her  pains  were  almost 
gone,  her  spirits  revived,  the  favorable  change  was 
visible  in  her  countenance.  Her  aunt  began  to 
break  the  subject  to  her,  by  saying, '  My  dear,  were 
you  not  extremely  ill  last  night?'  •  Indeed  I  was.' 
'  Had  you  not  been  relieved  I  think  you  could  not 
have  continued  long.'  '  I  believe  I  could  not.' 
'  My  dear,  I  have  been  very  anxiously  concerned 
for  your  Ufe.'  '  But  I  hope,  my  dear  aunt,  you  are 
not  so  now.  My  views  of  things  have  been  for 
some  time  very  different  from  what  they  were  when 
I  came  to  you.  I  have  seen  and  felt  the  vanity  of 
childhood  and  youth.'  Her  aunt  said, '  1  believe 
you  have  long  made  a  conscience  of  secret  prayer.' 
She  answered,  '  Yes,  I  have  long  and  earnestly 


ELIZA    CUNNINGHAM.  291 

Bought  the  Lord  with  reference  to  the  change  which 
is  now  approaching.  I  have  not  yet  that  full  assur- 
ance which  is  so  desirable,  but  I  have  a  hope,  I  trust 
a  good  hope,  and  I  believe  the  Lord  will  give  me 
whatever  he  sees  necessary  for  me,  before  he  takes 
me  hence.  I  have  prayed  to  him  to  fit  me  for  him- 
self, and  then  whether  sooner  or  later,  it  signifies 
but  little.' 

Here  was  a  comtor^able  point  gained.  We  were 
satisfied  that  she  had  given  up  all  expectation  of 
living,  and  could  spt>ak  of  her  departure  without 
being  distressed.  But  her  apparent  revival  was  of 
short  duration.  In  the  evening  of  the  same  day, 
she  began  to  complain  of  a  sore  throat,  which  be- 
came worse,  and  before  the  noon  of  the  next  day, 
threatened  an  absolute  suffocation.  When  Dr.  Be- 
namor,  who  the  day  before  had  almost  entertained 
hopes  of  her  recovery,  found  her  so  suddenly,  and 
so  greatly  altered,  he  could  not,  at  the  moment, 
prevent  some  signs  of  his  deep  concern  from  ap- 
pearing in  his  countenance.  She  quickly  perceived 
it,  and  desired  he  would  plainly  tell  her  his  senti- 
ments. When  he  had  recovered  himself,  he  said, 
'  You  are  not  so  well  as  when  I  saw  you  on  Satur- 
day.' She  answered, '  I  trust  all  will  be  well  soon.' 
He  replied,  that  whether  she  lived  or  died,  it  would 
be  well,  and  to  the  glory  of  God. 

He  told  me  that  he  had  much  pleasing  conversation 
with  her  that  morning,  some  particulars  of  which 
he  committed  to  writing,  but  had  lost  the  paper. 
From  that  time  she  may  be  said  to  have  been 
dying,  as  we  expected  her  departure  from  one 
hour  to  another.     On  Monday,  she  was  in  great 


292  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

pain,  sometimes  in  agonies,  unable  to  remain  many 
minutes  in  the  same  position. 

But  her  mind  was  peaceful,  she  possessed  a  spirit 
of  recollection  and  prayer,  and  her  chief  attention 
to  earthly  things  seemed  confined  to  the  concern 
she  saw  in  those  who  were  around  her.  That 
she  might  not  increase  their  feelings  for  her,  she 
strove  to  conceal  the  sense  of  her  own  suffer- 
ings. 

About  nine  the  next  morning,  we  all  thought  her 
dying,  and  waited  near  two  hours  by  her  bed-side 
for  her  last  breath.  She  was  much  convulsed,  and 
in  great  agonies.  I  said — '  My  dear,  you  are  going 
to  heaven,  and  I  hope,  by  the  grace  of  God,  we  in 
due  time  shall  follow  you.' — She  could  not  speak, 
but  let  us  know  that  she  attended  to  what  I  said,  by 
a  gentle  inclination  of  the  head,  and  a  sweet  smile. 
I  repeated  to  her  many  passages  of  Scripture,  and 
verses  of  hymns,  to  each  of  which  she  made  the 
same  kind  of  answer.  Though  silent,  her  looks 
were  more  expressive  than  words.  Towards  eleven 
o'clock,  a  great  quantity  of  coagulated  phlegm, 
which  she  had  not  strength  to  raise,  made  her  rattle 
violently  in  the  throat,  which  we  considered  as  a 
sign  that  death  was  at  hand  :  and  as  she  seemed 
unwilling  to  take  something  that  was  offered  her,  we 
forbore  to  disturb  her  in  whnt  we  supposed  her 
last  moments.  But  our  beloved  physician,  coming 
in,  observed  that  she  was  not  near  death  by  her 
pulse,  and  desired  that  something  might  be  given 
her.  A  tea-spoonful  or  two  of  some  liquid  cleared 
the  passage,  and  she  revived,  but  her  pain  was 
extreme,  and  her  disappointment  great.  I  never 
saw  her  so  near  impatience,  as  upon  this  occasion. 


ELIZA    CUNNINGHAM.  293 

As  soon  as  she  could  speak,  she  cried  out — '  Oh 
cruel ! — cruel  to  recall  me,  when  I  was  so  happy, 
and  so  near  gone !  I  wish  you  had  not  come.  I 
long  to  go  home.' 

But  in  a  few  moments  she  grew  composed,  as- 
sented to  what  the  doctor  said  of  her  duly  to  wait 
the  Lord's  time ;  and  from  that  hour,  though  her 
desires  to  depart  and  to  be  with  her  Saviour  were 
stronger  and  stronger,  she  cheerliiUy  took  whatever 
was  ofTered  her,  and  frequently  asked  for  something 
of  her  own  accord.  How  often,  if  we  were  to 
have  choice,  should  we  counteract  our  own  prayers  ! 
I  had  entreated  the  Lord  to  prolong  her  life,  till  she 
could  leave  an  indisputable  testimony  behind  her, 
for  our  comfort.  Yet  when  I  saw  her  agony,  and 
heard  her  cry — '  Oh !  how  cruel  to  stop  me' — I  was 
for  a  moment  almost  of  her  mind,  and  could  hardly 
help  wishing  that  the  doctor  had  delayed  his  visit  a 
little  longer.  But  if  she  had  died  then  we  should 
have  been  deprived  of  what  we  saw  and  heard  the 
two  following  days,  the  remembrance  of  which  is 
unspeakably  precious  to  me.  When  Dr.  Benamor 
came  on  Wednesday,  she  entreated  him  to  tell  her 
how  long  he  thought  she  might  live.  He  said — 
'  Are  you  in  earnest,  my  dear? — She  answered, — 
'Indeed  I  am.'  At  that  time  there  were  strong 
symptoms  of  mortification,  and  he  told  her  that  she 
might  hold  out  till  eight  in  the  evening,  but  he  did 
not  expect  she  could  survive  till  midnight. 

On  hearing  this,  low  as  she  was,  her  eyes  seemed 
to  sparkle  with  their  former  vivacity,  and  fixing  them 
on  him  with  an  air  of  inefiable  satisfaction  she  said, 
♦  Oh  that  is  good  news  indeed.'  And  she  repeated 
it  as  such  to  a  person  who  came  soon  after  into  the 


294  BIOGRAPHY    OF    FIOUS    PERSONS. 

room,  and  said  with  lively  emotions  of  joy,  "  The 
doctor  tells  me,  I  shall  stay  here  but  a  few  hours 
more.'  In  the  afternoon  she  noticed  and  counted 
the  clock  every  time  it  struck,  and  when  it  struck 
seven,  she  said — '  another  hour —  and  then — .'  But 
it  pleased  God  to  spare  her  to  us  another  day.  She 
suffered  much  in  the  course  of  Wednesday  night, 
but  was  quite  resigned  and  patient.  Our  kind 
servants,  who  from  love  to  her  and  us,  watched  her 
night  and  day,  with  a  solicitude  and  tenderness 
which  wealth  is  too  poor  to  purchase,  were  witnesses 
of  the  affectionate  and  grateful  manner  in  which  she 
repeatedly  thanked  them  for  their  services  and 
attentions  to  her.  Though  such  an  acknowledgment 
was  no  more  than  their  due,  yet  coming  from  her- 
self, and  at  such  a  time,  they  highly  valued  it.  She 
added  her  earnest  prayers  that  the  Lord  would 
reward  them.  To  her  prayers,  my  heart  says,  amen. 
May  they  be  comforted  of  God  in  their  dying 
moments,  as  she  was,  and  meet  with  equal  kindness 
from  those  who  surround  them. 

I  was  surprised  on  Thursday  morning,  to  find  her 
not  only  alive,  but  in  some  respects  better.  The 
tokens  of.  mortification  again  disappeared.  This 
was  her  last  day,  and  a  memorable  day  to  us. 
When  Dr.  Benamor  asked  her  how  she  was,  she  an- 
swered— '  Truly  happy,  and  if  this  is  dying,  it  is  a 
pleasant  thing  to  die.'  She  said  to  me  about  ten 
o'clock — '  My  dear  uncle,  I  would  not  change  con- 
ditions with  any  person  on  earth.  Oh !  how  gracious 
is  the  Lord  to  me.  Oh  what  a  change  is  before 
me.'  She  was  sometimes  asked  if  she  could  wish 
to  live,  provided  God  should  restore  her  to  perfect 
health ;  her  answer  was,  '  Not  for  all  the  world  ;" 


ELIZA    CUNNINGHAM.  295 

and  sometimes, — '  Not  for  a  thousand  worlds,' — 
but  the  last  time  she  was  asked  the  question,  she 
said — 'I  desire  to  have  no  choice.' — She  would 
often  say,  'Do  not  weep  for  me,  my  dear  aunt,  but 
rather  rejoice  and  praise  on  my  account.  I  shall 
now  have  the  advantage  of  dear  Miss  Patty  Barham 
— (a  beloved  friend  who  had  long  been  in  a  languish- 
ing state) — for  I  shall  go  before  her.' — We  asked  her 
if  she  would  choose  a  text  for  her  own  funeral 
sermon — she  readily  mentioned —  Whom  the  Lord 
lovelh  he  cliasleneth — '  That,'  said  she, '  has  been  my 
experience ;  my  afflictions  have  been  many,  but  not 
one  too  many ;  nor  has  the  greatest  of  them  been 
too  great — I  praise  him  for  them  all.' — But  after  a 
pause,  she  said, — '  Stay,  I  tliink  there  is  another 
text,  which  may  do  better ;  let  it  be — Blessed  are 
llie  dead,  wlw  die  in  the  Lord. — That  is  n)y  experi- 
ence now.' — She  then  chose  a  hymn  to  be  sung 
atlcr  the  sermon ; — the  72d  of  the  second  book  of 
Olney  Hymns. 

But  I  must  check  myself,  and  set  down  only  a 
small  part  of  the  gracious  words  which  the  Lord 
enabled  her  to  speak  in  the  course  of  the  day, 
though  she  was  frequently  interrupted  by  pains  and 
agonies.  She  had  something  to  say,  either  in  the 
way  of  admonition  or  consolation,  as  she  thought 
most  suitable,  to  every  one  whom  she  saw.  To 
her  most  constant  attendant  she  said,  "  Be  sure  to 
call  upon  tlie  Lord,  and  if  you  think  he  does  not 
hear  you  now,  he  will  at  last,  as  he  has  heard  me." 
She  spoke  a  great  deal  to  an  intimate  friend,  who 
was  with  her  every  day,  which  I  hope  she  will  long 
remember,  as  the  testimony  of  her  dying  Eliza. 
Amongst  other  things  she  said,  '  See  how  comfor- 


296  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

table  the  Lord  can  make  a  dying  bed.  Do  you 
think  you  shall  have  an  assurance  when  you  come 
to  die  V  Bemg  answered  '  1  hope  so,  my  dear,' 
she  replied,  '  But  do  you  earnestly,  and  with  all 
your  heart  pray  to  the  Lord  for  it  t  If  you  seek 
him,  you  shall  surely  find  him.'  She  then  prayed 
affectionately  and  fervently  for  her  friend,  after- 
wards for  her  cousin,  and  then  for  another  of  our 
family  who  was  present.  Her  prayer  was  not 
long,  but  her  every  word  was  weighty,  and  her 
manner  very  affecting ;  the  purport  was,  that  they 
might  all  be  taught  and  comforted  by  the  Lord. 

About  five  in  the  afternoon  she  desired  me  to 
pray  with  her  once  more.  Surely  I  then  prayed 
from  my  heart.  When  I  had  finished,  she  pronoun- 
ced. Amen.  I  said,  '  My  dear  child,  have  I  ex- 
pressed your  meaning  V  She  answered,  '  Oh  ! 
yes  ;'  and  then  added,  '  I  am  ready  to  say,  why 
are  his  chariot  ^vheels  so  long  in  coming '(  But  I 
hope  he  will  enable  me  to  wait  his  hour  with  patience.* 
These  were  the  last  words  that  I  heard  her  speak. 
Mrs.  Newton's  heart  was  much,  perhaps  too  much, 
attached  to  this  dear  child,  which  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at,  when  we  consider  what  a  child  she  was, 
how  we  received  her,  and  what  we  saw  her  suffer. 
But  her  Master  graciously  supported  her  in  this  try- 
ing season.  Indeed  there  was  much  more  cause 
for  joy  than  grief ;  yet  the  pain  of  separation  must 
be  felt.  Eliza  well  knew  her  feelings,  and  a  con- 
cern for  her  was,  I  believe,  the  last  anxiety  that 
remained  with  her.  She  said  to  those  about  her, 
'  Try  to  persuade  my  aunt  to  leave  the  room ;  I 
think  I  shall  soon  go  to  sleep.  I  shall  not  remain 
with  you  till  morning.'     Her  aunt,  however,  was 


t 

ELIZA    CUNNINGHAM.  297 

the  last  person  who  heard  her  speak,  and  was  sitting 
by  her  bed  when  she  went  away. 

A  Utile  past  six,  hearing  that  a  relation  who 
dearly  loved  her,  and  was  beloved  by  her,  and  who 
had  come  daily  from  Westminster  to  see  her,  was 
below  stairs,  she  said,  '  Raise  me  up,  that  I  may 
speak  to  him  once  more.'  Her  aunt  said,  ♦  My 
dear,  you  are  nearly  exhausted,  1  think  you  had 
better  not  attempt  it.'  She  smiled,  and  said, '  It  is 
very  well ;  I  will  not'  She  was  then  within  half 
an  hour  of  her  translation  to  glory,  but  the  love  of 
her  dear  Lord  had  so  filled  her  with  benevolence, 
that  she  was  ready  to  exert  even  her  last  breath, 
in  hopes  of  saying  something  that  might  be  useful 
to  others,  after  she  was  gone. 

Towards  seven  o'clock,  I  was  walking  in  my 
garden,  earnestly  engaged  in  prayer  for  her,  when 
a  servant  came  to  me,  and  said,  *jS^e  is  gone.*  ' 

0  Lord !  how  great  is  thy  power !  how  great  is 
thy  goodness.  A  few  days  before,  had  it  been 
practicable  and  lawful,  what  would  I  not  have  given 
to  |)rocure  her  recovery  ?  yet  seldom  ui  njy  life  have 

1  known  a  more  heartfelt  joy,  than  when  these 
words,  "  ahe  is  gone,"  sounded  in  my  ears.  I  ran 
up  stairs,  and  our  whole  little  family  were  soon 
aroiuid  her  bed.  Though  her  aunt  and  another 
person  were  sitting  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon  her, 
she  was  gone  a  few  minutes  before  she  was  missed. 
She  lay  upon  her  lelt  side,  with  her  cheek  gently 
reclining  upon  her  hand,  as  if  in  a  sweet  sleep ; 
and  I  thought  there  was  a  smile  upon  her  counte- 
jKUitx  .     Nevci    surely  did  death  appear  in  a  more 

25 


298  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

beautiful,  and  more  inviting  form.  We  fell  upon  our 
knees,  and  I  returned,  I  think  I  may  say,  my  most 
unfeigned  thanks  to  our  God  and  Saviour  for  his 
abundant  goodness  to  her,  crowned  in  this  last  in- 
stance by  giving  her  so  gentle  a  dismission.  Yes,  I 
ara  satisfied.  I  am  comforted.  And  if  one  of  the 
many  involuntary  tears  I  have  shed  could  recall  her 
to  Hfe,  health,  and  an  assemblage  of  all  that  this 
world  calls  happiness,  I  would  labor  hard  to  suppress 
it.  Now  my  largest  desires  for  her  arc  accom- 
plished. The  days  of  her  mourning  are  ended. 
She  is  landed  on  that  peacefid  shore,  where  the 
storms  of  trouble  never  blow.  She  is  forever  out 
of  the  reach  of  sorrow,  temptation  and  sin.  Now 
she  is  before  the  throne!  She  sees  him  whom 
having  not  seen  she  loved ; — she  drinks  of  the  rivers 
of  pleasure  that  flow  at  his  right  hand,  and  shall 
thirst  no  more.  She  was  born  February  6th,  1771, 
and  died  October  6th,  1785  aged  14  years  and  8 
months. 

A  child  under  the  age  of  fifteen,  did  thus  rejoice 
in  the  midst  of  pains  and  agonies.  She  was  wil- 
ling to  leave  all  her  friends  whom  sIks  loveil,  and 
by  whom  she  was  tenderly  beloved,  for  she  knew 
in  whom  she  believed,  and  that  when  she  should  be 
absent  from  the  body  she  should  be  present  with 
the  Lord.  She  triumphed  in  the  hope  of  glory,  and 
smiled  upon  the  approach  of  death.  It  may  be 
presumed  that  whoever  seriously  considers  lliis  case, 
will  not  be  able  to  satisfy  himself,  by  ascribing  such 
remarkable  effects  in  so  young  a  subject,  to  the 
power  of  habit,  example   or  system.     II'  he  does 


ELIZA    CUNNINGHAM.  299 

not  account  for  them  on  the  principles  of  the  gos- 
pel, he  will  be  unable  to  assign  any  proportionable 
cause.  And  it  is  to  be  feared,  that  if  he  is  not 
affected  by  a  testimony  so  simple  and  so  striking, 
neither  would  he  be  persuaded  thoiigh  one  should 
rise  from  the  dead." 


JOSHUA  ROWLEY  GILPIBf. 


I  ATTEMPT  to  abridge  for  you,  my  ybung  friends, 
a  little  work  entitled,  "  A  monument  of  Parental 

Affection,  to  a  dear  and  only  son  ;"  and  1 
1788.     regret  that  my  limited  time,  and  narrow 

bounds,  compel  me  to  compress  or  to 
leave  out  any  part  of  what  is  so  excellent.  The 
character  is  so  admirable,  that  it  must  excite  strong 
desire  of  imitation  in  every  reflecting  mind  ;  while 
the  sorrows  of  a  father  lamenting  (he  loss  of  an 
only  child,  and  bending  over  the  tomb  which  has 
swallowed  up  all  his  earthly  hopes,  must  excite  the 
commiseration  of  every  susceptible  heart,  and  draw 
a  tear  from  every  eye  which  confesses  the  claims  of 
sympathy  and  compassion. 

Joshua  Rowley  Gilpin,  the  only  son  of  the  Rev. 
J.  Gilpin,  pastor  of  Wreck  ward  ine,  in  the  county  of 
Salop,  England,  was  born  Jan.  30, 1788.  In  infan- 
cy, when  the  internal  texture  slowly  yet  truly  disco- 
vers itself,  he  displayed  a  remarkably  mild  and  pa- 
tient disposition,  and  showed  no  propensity  to  anger 
when  what  ho  loved  most  was  withheld.  This  dis- 
position, which  promised  to  those  around  him,  as 
well  as  to  himself,  much  comfort,  seemed  to  acquire 
additional  strength  with  his  years ;  and  it  is  suppos- 
ed that  there  never  existed  a  youth  less  subject  to 


JOSHUA    ROWLEY    GILPIN.  301 

petulance  or  passion,  or  who  could  meet  the  una- 
voidable vexations  of  life  with  a  greater  degree  of 
calmness  and  tranquillity.  His  father  undertook 
the  sole  care  of  his  education,  and  found  the  em- 
ployment a  source  of  perpetual  delight. 

So  gentle,  so  docile,  so  industrious  was  his  young 
pupil,  that  he  never  had  occasion  to  direct  to  him  a 
single  expression  of  displeasure,  and  throughout 
the  whole  course  of  his  life  no  correction  was  nec- 
essary, and  no  instrument  of  chastisement  was  ever 
seen  in  the  house.  His  first  perceivable  inclination 
was  for  drawing,  in  which  he  engaged  when  almost 
an  infant ;  and  though  his  first  attempts  were  rude, 
he  soon  began  to  surprise  his  friends  with  the  bold- 
ness of  his  designs,  and  accuracy  of  his  execution. 
While  engaged  in  this  favorite  amusement,  a  dis- 
sected alphabet  was  placed  before  him,  and  his  de- 
sire was  so  great  to  furnish  his  drawings  with  suita- 
ble titles,  that  he  soon  made  himself  master  of  it. 

Now  a  new  field  of  pleasure  was  opened  for  him 
to  range  in,  and  from  the  productions  of  the  pencil 
his  mind  was  turned  to  the  various  arrangements 
and  combinations  of  these  lettets ;  so  that  at  an 
age  when  many  children  have  scarcely  learned  their 
names,  he  was  forming  them  into  short  sentences, 
not  only  of  a  playful,  but  of  a  devotional  cast. 
This  not  only  ascertained  the  growth  of  his  intel- 
lectual powers,  but  gave  satisfactory  assurance  to 
his  pious  and  affectionate  parents,  that  even  then 
his  young  heart  was  forming  a  happy  acquaintance 
with  divine  things.  As  the  higher  branches  of 
knowledge  allured  him,  he  devoted  himself  anxious- 
ly to  their  acquisition.  He  was  cheerfully  prepared 
for  every  necessary  exercise,  and  always  inclined  to 
25* 


302  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

exceed  rather  than  fall  short  of  his  appointed  task. 
He  complained  of  no  difficulty,  he  wanted  no  help  ; 
he  considered  the  little  labors  of  every  day  as  a  rea- 
sonable service,  and  readily  on  every  occasion  sub- 
mitted his  will  to  that  of  his  father.  During  his 
studies  his  sweet  and  placid  disposition  was  con- 
stantly displaying  itself.  While  a  child  he  had  be- 
come familiarly  acquainted  with  the  rudiments  of 
the  Latin  tongue,  ;uid  by  many  fair  words  persuaded 
his  nurse  (a  very  worthy  young  woman  who  attend- 
ed him  from  his  infancy)  to  become  his  scholar. 
Such  pleasure  did  he  derive  from  his  studies,  that 
he  left  no  means  untried  to  engage  her  attention, 
and  would  often  set  before  her  the  honorable  dis- 
tinction of  excelling  in  knowledge  all  the  young 
women  in  her  parish.  He  drew  up  for  her  an 
abridgment  of  his  Grammar,  to  which  he  added  a 
short  vocabulary ;  and  was  never  without  a  few 
slips  of  paper  in  his  pocket  on  which  was  some 
noun  regularly  declined,  for  her  benefit.  If  the 
day  had  failed  to  afford  her  sufficient  time  to  attend 
his  lessons,  he  redoubled  his  assiduity  when  she 
conducted  him  ty  his  chamber  at  night,  and  was 
never  contented  without  hearing  her  repeat  the 
Lord's  prayer  in  Greek.  This,  while  it  exemplified 
the  sweetness  of  his  temper,  showed  that  he  loved 
those  parts  of  learning  which  young  students  are 
apt  to  think  tedious  and  disgusting,  and  that  his  mind 
had  early  put  away  childish  things. 

While  he  was  thus  anxiously  pursuing  improve- 
ment, his  father  showed  him  one  evening  a  treatise  on 
Arithmetic,  resolving  to  observe  how  it  might  suit 
his  inclinations.  He  went  immediately  to  work  on 
this  untried  ground,  and  so  great  was  his  satisfac- 


JOSHUA   ROW  LET   GILPIN.  303 

lion  that  he  begged  that  he  might  he  allowed  to  have 
the  same  exercise  again,  whenever  he  should  feel  at 
a  loss  for  amusement.  For  three  weeks  it  formed 
part  of  his  evening  entertainment,  and  in  that  short 
space  he  became  so  expert  an  arithmetician  as  to 
consider  the  extraction  of  the  square  or  cube  rooU 
nothing  but  mere  diversion.  His  father  now  thought 
fit  to  withdraw  him  from  the  science  of  numbers, 
lest  it  should  interfere  too  much  with  his  classical 
studies ;  yet  he  still  continued  to  surprise  him  with 
his  abstruse  numerical  speculations.  And  when 
allerwards  he  was  suflered  to  pursue  Mathematics, 
Algebra  and  Geometry,  he  acquired  without  the  help 
of  a  master,  surprising  proficiency  in  those  sciences. 
The  difiicult  problems  of  Euclid  aflTorded  him  the 
highest  delight ;  he  would  willingly  have  employed 
his  days  and  nights  with  them,  and  no  youth  was 
ever  more  entertained  with  perusing  a  fairy  tale, 
than  he  with  solving,  applying  and  repeating  every 
proposition  in  its  order. 

Under  the  tuition  of  his  father,  he  went  regularly 
through  the  authors  which  are  used  in  public  semi- 
naries, and  that  with  a  degree  of  attention  very  un- 
usual in  those  places.  His  memory  was  so  durably 
retentive,  that  what  he  once  read  he  never  forgot, 
and  could  always  repeat,  or  turn  to  any  required 
passage,  whether  found  in  the  writings  of  poets, 
historians,  or  divines.  His  accuracy  was  admira- 
ble; he  was  penetrating  to  discover  errors,  and 
careful  to  avoid  them.  lie  would  never  pass  over 
a  sentence  till  he  had  obtained  a  satisfactory  view  of 
its  meaning ;  or  lay  aside  an  author  till  he  had 
formed  a  critical  acquaintance  both  with  his  style 
and  sentiments.     In  diligence  he  was  never  exceed- 


304  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

ed ;  employment  was  the  delight  of  his  life,  and 
whatsoever  his  hand  found  to  do,  he  did  it  with  his 
might.  His  soul  thirsted  for  knowledge,  and  no 
occasional  difficulty  could  abate  its  desire  or  retard 
its  progress.  In  cases  of  perplexity,  so  far  was  he 
from  soliciting  assistance,  that  he  modestly  declined 
it  when  offered,  and  through  the  whole  course  of 
his  studies,  it  was  never  necessary  to  stimulate  his 
progress. 

His  love  of  order  was  not  less  singular  than  his 
diligence.  From  his  earliest  childhood  he  discov- 
ered an  uncommon  attention  to  method  in  all  his 
little  undertakings,  and  this  disposition  gradually 
acquired  strength,  as  he  became  better  acquainted 
with  the  importance  of  time.  To  his  labors  and 
recreations  he  assigned  their  proper  place  and  sea- 
son, contriving  to  till  up  the  day  with  an  agreeable 
variety,  preserving  himself  on  the  one  hand  from 
listlessness  and  aj)athy,  on  the  other  from  perplexity 
and  precipitation.  Ilad  he  foreseen  the  predeter- 
mined limits  of  his  short  life  he  could  not  have  or- 
dered it  more  wisely  or  happily  for  himself,  or  for 
his  parents,  since  every  period  of  it  was  marked 
with  punctuality  and  enjoyment,  industry  and  ease, 
moderation  and  composure.  A  clear  and  acute 
understanding  might  with  propriety  be  called  his 
distinguishing  faculty,  for  he  possessed  it  in  an  un- 
common degree  of  perfection.  It  was  not  his  cus- 
tom to  glide  smoothly  over  the  surface  of  things  ; 
nor  had  he  any  taste  for  that  light  kind  of  reading 
which  so  generally  attracts  the  minds  of  young 
people.  He  dehghted  in  mose  exercises  of  the 
mind  which  they  usually  consider  laborious ;  having 
once  fixed  his  attention  upon  a  subject,  nothing 


JOSHUA    ROWLEY    GILPIN.  305 

could  allure  him  from  it  until  he  had  searched  it 
thoroughly  ;  and  to  deal  with  some  subtle  questions, 
or  try  his  strength  on  some  difficult  point,  afforded 
him  the  highest  gratification. 

The  attention  of  his  parents  was  not  however 
confined  to  his  literary  attainments ;  but  it  was  their 
endeavor  and  prayer  that  he  might  blend  with  it,  the 
wisdom  that  is  from  above.  They  were  anxious 
that  he  should  not  be  unfurnished  for  the  regular 
and  honorable  discharge  of  his  duties  in  the  present 
world,  but  were  still  more  solicitous  to  educate  him 
as  a  candidate  for  glory,  honor  and  immortality, 
in  the  world  to  come.  Feeling  as  if  a  failure  in 
this  would  have  blasted  all  their  fondest  hopes,  they 
began  this  important  work  at  a  very  early  age,  with 
the  greatest  simplicity,  condescension  and  caution, 
lest  they  should  produce  disgust,  where  they  wished 
to  excite  desire.  From  the  beauties  of  Creation 
they  tenderly  led  his  mind  to  the  wonders  of  Provi- 
dence ;  from  the  goodness  of  God  to  the  unwor- 
thiness  of  man ;  from  the  depravity  of  human  na- 
ture to  the  redemption  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus ;  from 
this  transient  state  of  being  to  that  eternal  world, 
in  which  imperfection  and  infelicity  shall  have  no 
place.  They  accompanied  these  discourses  with 
none  of  that  formality  and  rigor  which  some  falsely 
attach  to  religion. — "  I  will  show  you,  my  dear  son," 
said  his  father,  with  a  smiling  countenance,  "  a  way 
that  will  lead  you  from  earth  to  heaven."  His  gen- 
tle pupil  listened  with  eager  attention,  and  the  in- 
stniction  was  crowned  with  more  than  ordinary 
success.  His  mmd  seemed  to  be  solemnized,  yet 
filled  with  every  joyful  and  grateful  sensation,  and 
like  the  child  Samuel  he  was  early  awakened  and 


306  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

purified.  At  his  first  introduction  to  the  house  of 
God,  which  took  place  at  a  very  early  age,  he  dis- 
covered such  a  degree  of  reverential  awe  as  had 
scarcely  ever  been  witnessed  before  ;  and  ever  af- 
ter in  his  stated  appearance  there,  whether  he  lis- 
tened to  the  sacred  word,  or  bowed  before  the  altar, 
his  whole  carriage  was  marked  with  the  most  unaf- 
fected decorum  and  piety.  Oh!  think  not,  my 
dear  young  friends,  that  he  then  embraced  anything 
gloomy,  rigorous,  or  unnecessary ;  he  made  choice 
of  what  was  to  increase  his  talents,  to  refine  his  en- 
joyments, to  fortify  his  mind  against -the  allurements 
and  sorrows  of  time,  and  to  prepare  his  soul  to  re- 
turn to  the  hand  of  its  Maker,  after  a  short  and  hap- 
py visit  to  mortality. 

I  borrow  the  words  of  his  father  to  describe  to 
you  the  happy  manner  in  which  their  Sabbaths  were 
mutually  spent.  "  Unrestrained  by  the  presence  of 
witnesses,  we  gave  on  that  day  an  unlimited  indul- 
gence to  our  atfectionate  and  devotional  feelings. 
We  conversed  as  parts  of  the  same  family  ;  we 
congratulated  each  other  as  members  of  the  Christian 
church ;  we  rejoiced  over  one  another  as  heirs  of 
the  same  glorious  promises.  Some  interesting 
passage  of  Scripture,  or  some  choice  piece  of  divi- 
nity, generally  fiirnished  the  matter  of  our  discourse, 
and  while  we  endeavored  to  obtain  a  clear  and 
comprehensive  view  of  the  subject  before  us,  a 
divine  light  would  sometimes  break  in  upon  us, 
satisfying  our  doubts,  exalting  our  conceptions,  and 
cheering  our  hearts.  We  have  then  with  one  con- 
sent laid  aside  our  book  that  we  might  uninterruptedly 
admiro  the  beauties,  and  enjoy  the  sweets  of  the  open- 
ing prospect.     While  thus  solacing  ourselves  with  a 


JOSHUA    ROWLEY   GILPIN.  307 

view  of  our  future  onjoymcnts,  and  the  place  of  our 
final  destination,  we  have  solemnly  renewed  our 
vows,  resolving,  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before  us,  to 
endure  the  cross,  despising  the  shame,  in  humble 
imitation  of  our  adorable  Master.  In  such  a  frame 
of  mind  we  found  it  possible  to  speak  of  probable 
sufferings,  and  painful  separations,  with  the  utmost 
composure.  And  with  such  a  termination  of  our 
course  in  sight,  we  could  cheerfully  leave  all  the 
casualties  of  that  course  to  the  Divine  disposal ; 
fully  persuaded  that  whatever  evd  might  befal  us  by 
the  way,  an  abundant  compensation  would  be  mado 
for  all  on  our  su-riviil  at  home." 

The  sedentary  habits,  and  intense  application  of 
the  young  student,  it  was  feared  by  his  father  would 
injure  the  delicacy  of  his  health,  and  he  endeavored 
to  draw  him  more  fre(iucntly  from  his  beloved  books. 
But  his  inclinations  led  him  so  strongly  to  such 
pursuits,  that  the  amusements  and  recreations  of 
youth  had  for  him  no  charm,  and  he  would  silently 
retire  from  them  to  seclude  himself  in  his  study. 
His  parents  still  trembhng  at  the  feebleness  and 
delicacy  of  his  appearance,  were  advised  to  place 
him  in  a  public  school,  where  perhaps  the  novelty 
of  the  scene  might  for  awhile  divert  his  mind  from 
too  intense  study,  and  more  atliletic  exercises 
strengthen  the  fibres  of  his  frame. 

They  acquiesced  in  the  propriety  of  this  advice, 
but  the  idea  of  parting  was  so  insupportable,  that 
they  removed  their  family  to  Newport,  and  placed 
him  at  the  excellent  seminary  of  the  Rev.  Joseph 
Scott.  Here  he  was  introduced  to  a  scene  replete 
with  novelty  ;  ho  had  often  heard  of  a  school,  but 
had  never  seen  one,  and  great  was  his  astonishiuent 


308  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

to  find  idleness,  irregularity  and  ignorance,  where 
he  expected  only  to  find  industry,  order  and  intelli- 
gence. The  customary  exercises  of  the  academy 
were  performed  by  him  with  such  perfect  ease,  that 
his  attendance  was  required  scarcely  five  hours  in 
the  day,  "  and  thus,"  says  his  affectionate  father, 
*'  we  were  allowed  to  spend  the  greatest  part  of  our 
time  together.  Twice  in  the  day  we  parted,  not 
without  a  momentary  feeling  of  regret,  and  twice 
we  met  each  other  with  unfeigned  pleasure,  as 
dearest  friends  are  accustomed  to  meet  after  a 
tedious  separation. 

Though  he  had  many  seniors  among  his  com- 
panions he  rapidly  rose  to  the  highest  seat  in  the 
school,  a  place  of  which  he  was  by  no  means 
ambitious,  and  which  he  occupied  with  the  utmost 
modesty  and  condescension.  His  affability  and 
gentleness  conciliated  the  minds  and  repressed  the 
eiwy  of  his  school-fellows,  but  between  his  habits 
and  theirs  the  difference  was  so  great,  that  he  could 
form  no  familiar  connection  with  any  of  them.  In 
the  head  master  of  this  seminary  he  found  an  atten- 
tive instiuctor,  and  a  familiar  iVicnd.  I>y  him  the 
young  student's  talents  were  di::itinguished  with  the 
strongest  marks  of  esteem,  and  he  never  spoke  of 
hun  but  in  the  must  endearing  terms,  calling  him 
"  the  pride  of  his  school  and  the  jtriJe  of  his 
heart." 

The  return  of  this  amiable  family  to  then-  beloved 
village  was  a  time  of  unspeakable  enjoyment. 
Their  allectionate  people  wailed  to  welcome  them  ; — 
the  sight  of  their  habitation  renewed  (he  memory  of 
former  joy.s,  and  he  on  wliose  accotuit  they  had 
departed,  gazed   witli   unutterubl*.   emotion  on  the 


JOSHUA    ROWLEY    GILPIN.  309 

spot  of  his  nativity.  Its  trees,  its  cottages,  the  very 
rock  on  which  it  stood,  were  associated  with  the 
recollection  of  unininglcd  enjoyments ;  every  room 
in  his  dwelling,  every  shrub  in  his  garden,  every 
field  in  his  extensive  prospect ;  even  the  distant 
hills  behind  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  watch 
the  setting  sun,  seemed  to  say — welcome — welcome 
to  the  youth  who  from  more  splendid  scenes — scenes 
where  he  has  been  honored  and  caressed,  returns 
■cheerfully  to  us. 

"  How  promising  are  your  prospects  in  life,"  said 
^  friend,  "  how  reasonably  may  you  look  forward  to 
ihe  most  satisfactory  events."  But  with  ineffable 
modesty  and  sweetness  he  answered,  "  I  look  for- 
ward to  no  future  event  whatever  with  any  degree  of 
•desire,  perfectly  assured  that  no  possible  change  in 
my  aftairs  can  make  any  addition  to  my  present  hap- 
piness." Not  even  the  gaieties  and  amusements  of 
London  could  iifi'ect  the  inclinations  of  this  incom- 
parable youth,  who  after  spending  two  months  there, 
at  the  giddy  age  of  16,  returned  to  his  native  vil- 
lage with  the  same  delight — the  same  unassuming 
manners — the  same  purity  of  taste.  As  they  en- 
tered the  secluded  spot  where  all  their  real  enjoy- 
ments centered,  he  presented  his  father  with  a  copy 
of  Latin  verses,  expressive  of  his  feelings,  which  at 
the  request  ol'  his  mother  weie  thus  triuislated. 

"  Livis  llicrf  a  yoiitli  wlio  far  from  homo 
Tliroii^'li  novel  scenes  exults  to  roam  I 
Tlien  let  tlie  restless  vuunml  go 
And  iilly  pass  from  show  to  show  ; 
NVliile  ill  my  native  villiigo  blest, 
Deli<!;liicd  still,  and  still  al  rest, 
Without  disturbance  or  alloy, 
Life's  purest  pleasuresi  I  enjoy  " 
2G 


310  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

Every  spot  to  this  amiable  youth  was  sweet,  be- 
cause he  bore  in  his  bosom  the  source  of  all  true 
pleasure — unaftected  goodness — active  virtue — and 
an  hope  of  the  favor  of  Gcd.  But  while  he  was 
rapidly  preparing  for  the  sacred  employment  to  which 
he  was  destined,  increasing  in  wisdom  and  stature, 
and  in  favor  with  God  and  man,  a  secret  arrow 
from  an  unerring  hand  pierced  him,  commissioned 
to  wound,  and  eventually  to  destroy.  In  the  month 
of  April,  1804,  he  was  suddenly  attacked  by  a  dis- 
charge of  blood  from  the  lungs,  which  was  repeated 
until  he  was  reduced  to  a  surprising  degree  of  de- 
bility. "  We  considered  this,"  writes  his  father,  "  as 
a  solemn  warning  from  above  ;  and  while  we  dis- 
covered in  it  the  absolute  uncertainty  of  our  dearest 
earthly  enjoyments,  we  earnestly  prayed  for  a  grow- 
ing submission  to  the  divine  will. 

In  the  mean  time  it  afforded  us  unspeakable  com- 
fort to  mark  the  composure  of  our  suffering  child, 
who  '  as  a  sheep  before  his  shearers  opened  not 
his  mouth,  neither  despised  the  chastening  of  the 
Lord,  or  fainted  under  his  rebuke,'  but  lying  as 
clay  in  the  hand  of  the  potter,  meekly  submitted 
himself  to  the  disposal  of  a  fiiithful  Creator."  But 
the  medicines  prescribed  seemed  to  have  a  benefi- 
cial effect  upon  him,  and  a  journey  through  a  beau- 
tiful part  of  Wales,  and  several  weeks  residence 
among  its  delightful  scenes,  together  with  the  purity 
of  its  air,  and  tlie  mild  salubrity  of  the  season,  seem- 
ed to  restore  again  the  health  of  the  beloved  object. 
As  they  returned  home  with  the  reviNing  invalid,  all 
Nature  appeared  to  them  particijumt  in  their  joy  ; — 
to  use  the  animated  language  of  his  father,  "  the 
mountains  and  hills  seemed  around  us  to  break  forth 


JOSHUA    ROWLEY    GILPIN.  311 

into  singing,  and  all  the  trees  of  the  field  to  clap 
their  hands.  We  renewed  our  vows  at  every  stage, 
we  freely  indulged  our  grateful  feelings  at  home, 
where  we  reared  an  altar  to  the  God  of  all  comfort, 
who  had  been  mindful  of  us  in  our  low  estate,  gra- 
ciously prospered  our  way,  and  brought  us  again  in 
peace  to  our  own  habitation." 

During  this  interval  of  returning  vigor,  he  formed 
many  plans  of  improvement,  and  acquired  much 
useful  information.  He  was  incessantly  occupied, 
and  all  his  occupations  invariably  tended  either  to 
increase  his  own  knowledge,  or  to  advance  the  hap- 
piness of  his  family.  Through  a  great  part  of  the 
day  he  was  a  silent  and  separate  student ;  at  stated 
periods  he  related  to  his  father  what  he  had  explor- 
ed alone  ;  and  occasionally  associated  with  both 
his  parents  with  the  most  marked  satisfaction,  and 
cheerful  discourse.  Their  evenings  were  spent  in 
the  reciprocal  enjoyment  of  the  highest  domestic 
pleasures.  Their  customary  exercises  began  with 
music,  sometimes  of  the  most  delicate  and  compli- 
cated kind  ;  were  continued  with  reading  and  con- 
versing alternately  on  the  best  works,  historical  or 
poetical,  philosophical,  moral  or  religious  ;  and  clo- 
sed with  the  lifting  up  of  the  heart  and  voice  in 
grateful  prayer  to  the  bountiful  Giver  of  all  good. 

In  May  he  again  resumed  his  studies  at  Newport, 
where  he  continued  till  the  midsummer  vacation, 
and  then  went  on  a  pleasing  journey  with  his  pa- 
rents. Immediately  after  his  return  ho  was  sum- 
moned to  Newport  as  a  candidate  for  two  vacant 
exhibitions.  When  he  appeared  at  his  public  ex- 
aminatioD,  and  took  his  seat  before  the  tutors  of  the 
college,  the  magistrates,  clergy  and  visitors  assem- 


312  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

bled,  a  degree  of  modest  diffidence  was  visible  in 
him,  which  is  often  connected  with  real  genius. 
But  in  his  appointed  exercises  he  was  so  ready,  so 
correct,  so  perfect,  that  the  whole  concourse  were 
ready  to  applaud  him  with  one  voice,  his  parents 
were  loaded  with  congratulations  for  having  such  a 
son,  and  a  paper  signed  by  all  present,  was  presented 
to  the  managers  of  the  school  funds,  requesting 
that  the  usual  sum  presented  to  the  candidate  might 
be  doubled  on  account  of  his  extraordinary  attain- 
ments. Yet  so  meekly  did  he  bear  this  full  tide  of 
honor,  that  he  manifested  not  the  least  satisfaction  in 
hearing  his  own  praises,  and  after  his  return  home 
never  made  the  most  distant  allusion  to  these  flat- 
tering events.  It  was  now  concluded  that  he  should 
become  a  student  at  Oxford,  and  in  October,  1805, 
he  was  entered  a  fellow  commoner  at  Christ  Church 
College,  not  intending  to  take  his  residence  there  till 
the  commencement  of  the  following  term. 

The  prospect  of  separation,  and  the  dangerous 
examples  to  which  he  must  necessarily  be.  exposed, 
gave  pain  to  the  hearts  of  his  parents,  but  his  early 
and  growing  piety,  his  extreme  temperance  and 
modesty,  his  intense  application  to  study,  added  to 
a  certain  firmness  of  mind,  of  which  he  had  given 
indisputable  evidences,  gave  them  the  strongest 
ground  of  hope,  that  he  would  in  every  situation 
refuse  the  evil,  and  choose  the  good.  His  classical 
and  mathematical  studies  now  employed  almost  the 
whole  of  his  time,  and  so  assiduously  did  he  devote 
himself  to  these  pursuits,  that  he  was  regularly  the 
first  of  the  family  to  leave  his  chamber,  even  during 
the  severest  part  of  the  season.  The  day  was  too 
short  for  his  active  mind ;  and^had  he  been  allowed, 


JOBHUA   ROWLEY  GILPIN.  313 

he  would  willingly  have  added  to  its  length  by 
contracting  the  night,  which  he  was  inclined  to 
consider  as  a  great  interruption  to  his  progress  in 
knowledge.  It  was  evident  that  he  desired  know- 
ledge for  her  own  sake,  and  not  on  account  of  those 
flattering  distinctions  which  she  sometimes  gains 
among  men.  He  discovered  none  of  that  self 
complacency  which  is  so  disgustingly  manifest  in  the 
deportment  of  many  young  scholars,  nor  did  he 
ever  betray  the  least  desire  to  outshine  an  inferior. 
On  the  contrary,  in  every  company,  and  on  all 
occasions  he  manifested  an  extraordinary  degree  of 
meekness,  doing  nothing  through  strife  or  vain  glory, 
but  in  lowliness  of  mind  esteeming  others  better 
than  himself.  Both  at  home  and  abroad  he  appeared 
as  a  peaceable  student  in  the  school  of  Christ,  and  as 
one  who  possessed  that  heavenly  disposition  which 
"  envieth  not — vaunteth  not  itself — is  not  puifed  up 
— doth  not  behave  unseemly — sceketh  not  its 
own." 

It  had  been  the  custom  of  this  happy  family  to 
notice  the  birth-day  of  their  beloved  son,  not  with 
sumptuous  entertainments  or  extravagant  gaiety, 
but  with  the  most  affectionate  congratulations  among 
themselves,  and  the  most  ardent  ascriptions  of 
gratitude  to  God.  In  this  manner,  his  eighteenth 
birth-day  was  spent,  but  amidst  its  pure  and  hallowed 
pleasures,  little  did  they  expect  it  was  the  last  they 
were  ever  to  commemorate.  His  mother  brought 
forward  many  affecting  quotations  from  the  authors 
with  which  she  was  daily  conversant,  to  remind  the 
objects  of  her  aflcction  of  their  past  blessings,  and 
to  cheer  them  with  the  prospect  of  future  comforts : 
26* 


314  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

and  his  father  presented  him  with  the  following 
pleasing  effusion. 

The  Birth  Daxj  Wish.    Jan.  30,  1806. 

"May  all  thy  years  serenely  flow, 
Nor  charjj'd  with  care,  nor  mix'd  with  wo  ! 
And  still  as  this  lov'd  day  returns, 
While  thy  srlad  heart  within  thee  burns, 
May  gratitude  prepare  the  feast, 
And  hope  be  there  a  smiling  guest ; 
Nor  rosy  health,  nor  spriglitly  joy 
Refuse  to  wait  upon  my  boy." 

"  Ah!" — writes  his  father,  "  could  I  have  foreseen 
that  my  son's  next  claim  upon  his  father's  pen  would 
be — not  for  a  birth-day  tribute,  but  for  a  monumental 
inscription, — what  a  season  of  bitterness  would  this 
have  been." — As  they  were  thus  sweetly  passing 
the  hours  of  his  last  natal  day,  a  servant  arrived 
about  noon,  with  a  letter  addressed  to  him,  containing 
bank-bills  to  a  considerable  amoimt,  with  a  request 
that  he  would  receive  them  as  a  joint  token  of  the 
affection  of  a  few  of  his  friends,  who  wished  annu- 
ally to  repeat  the  same  expression  of  their  regard 
till  he  should  take  his  first  degree.  This  unexpected 
proof  of  the  estimation  in  which  he  was  held,  was 
received  by  the  object  of  it  \vith  the  strongest  indi- 
cations of  astonishment  and  gratitude. 

Preparations  for  his  removal  to  the  university 
were  now  occasionally  made.  "  For  eighteen  years," 
says  his  father,  "  we  had  been  inseparable  compan- 
ions, and  now  while  various  preparations  for  his  de- 
parture were  making  before  our  eyes,  we  were  often 
ready  to  address  each  other  in  the  passionate  lan- 
guage of  Ruth, '  Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee  ;  for 


JOSHUA   ROWLEY   GILPIN.  315 

'whither  thou  gocst,  I  will  go  ; — and  where  thou 
lodgcst,  I  will  lodge,'  not  knowing  the  appointment 
of  God,  that  nothing  but  death  should  part  us." 
The  approaching  spring,  the  wound  in  his  vitals, 
which  they  had  vainly  hoped  was  healed,  began  to 
break  out,  and  bleed  afresh,  and  the  influenza,  which 
was  then  epidemical,  seizing  upon  his  feeble  frame, 
fixed  there  an  incurable  malady,  which  no  power  of 
medicine  could  alleviate  or  remove.  The  sudden 
and  painful  changes  of  his  state  he  met  with  a  smile 
of  cheerful  submission ;  no  murmuring  word  was 
■ever  heard  to  fall  from  his  Ups  ;  no  trace  of  chagrin 
or  anxiety  was  at  any  time  visible  on  his  counte- 
nance. Neither  loss  of  appetite,  or  decay  of  strength, 
neither  languid  days  or  restless  nights,  could  break 
the  settled  composure  of  his  mind  ;  and  so  admira- 
ble was  the  mixture  of  meekness  and  manliness  dis- 
coverable in  him,  that  it  was  not  easy  to  say,  wheth- 
er his  patience  or  fortitude  \j'as  carried  to  the  great- 
est extent 

He  constantly  aspired  to  the  knowledge  of  divine 
things,  raising  his  thoughts  to  the  contemplation  of 
God,  and  regularly  advancing  his  preparation  for 
that  eternal  world,  to  which  he  was  making  so  spee- 
dy an  approach.  The  affecting  language  of  his  fa- 
ther conveys  a  striking  description  of  the  close  of 
his  short  and  excellent  life.  "  We  saw  the  stroke 
descending,"  he  writes,  "  which  was  to  dissolve  an 
union  from  which  we  had  derived  an  unbroken  suc- 
cession of  delights  ;  and  we  could  not  but  tremble 
as  it  approached.  But  in  the  midst  of  our  trem- 
blings we  presumed  only  to  implore  that  its  violence 
might  be  soflened  to  all  the  suffering  parties.  This 
earnest  prayer  was  offered  without  ceasing,  and  it 


316  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

found  acceptance  with  God.  He  knew  the  feeble- 
ness of  our  hearts,  and  gave  charge  concerning  us 
from  his  holy  heavens.  His  purpose  was  indeed 
unaherable,  but  it  was  executed  with  fatherly  com- 
passion. 

No  terrific  messenger  was  sent  to  force  away  our 
darling  child ;  but  angels  came  on  that  commission  ; 
neither  wind,  nor  earthquake,  nor  fire,  were  allowed 
to  disturb  us  with  their  tremendous  exhibitions,  but 
throughout  all  the  mitigated  visitations,  a  slill,  small 
voice,  was  heard,  proclaiming  peace  before  us.  Af- 
ter having  been  a  constant  and  conscientious  atten- 
dant on  the  public  ordinances  of  grace  for  many 
years,  his  Salibaths  were  now  past  in  a  state  of  com- 
parative sohtude,  for  so  solicitous  was  he  to  preserve 
the  order  of  the  day,  that  he  would  never  once  per- 
mit his  mother  to  be  detained  from  church  on  his 
account.  While  we  went  up  to  the  holy  temple, 
and  presented  our  supplications,  on  the  footstool  of 
the  Judge  of  all  the  earth,  he  meekly  presented  him- 
self in  secret  before  the  Father  of  spirits,  in  whose 
sight  places  and  forms  are  inconsiderable  things. — 
When  the  bells  called  us  away,  he  seemed  for  a  mo- 
ment to  lament  those  growing  infirmities  which 
would  not  allow  him  to  obey  so  joyful  a  summons  ; 
nor  did  he  salute  us  with  less  satisfaction  at  our  re- 
turn, when  he  found  a  sacred  entertainment  in  learn- 
ing the  subject  that  had  employed  our  attention. 
The  concluding  part  of  these  holy  days  was  spent 
in  our  customary  manner,  and  never  was  he  dis(jua- 
lified  for  taking  a  cheerful  share  in  our  acts  of  social 
worship. 

These  opportunities  had  been  always  accompa- 
nied with  peculiar  satisfaction  ;  our  Sabbath  suns 


JOSHUA    ROWLEY    GILPIN.  317 

stiil  continued  to  go  down  with  a  glorious  radiance, 
gilfling  even  our  most  gloomy  prospects,  and  giving 
us  the  promise  of  an  everlasting  day.  As  he  ap- 
proached the  end  of  his  course,  he  withdrew  himself 
from  every  pursuit  that  might  divert  his  tlioughts 
from  the  great  end  of  his  being.  The  poets,  and 
orators  of  Greece  and  Rome,  were  exchanged  for 
the  works  of  experimental  religion,  and  he  sat  daily 
at  the  feet  of  some  master  in  Israel,  from  whose  pi- 
ety and  experience  he  hoped  to  gain  an  increase  of 
divine  wisdom.  The  practical  writings  of  Mr.  Law 
were  frequently  in  his  hands  ;  these  he  had  advan- 
tageously perused  in  the  days  of  health,  but  at  this 
season  he  studied  them  with  the  deepest  attention, 
pausing  long  on  every  striking  passage,  and  fre- 
quently making  the  most  solemn  remarks.  He  then 
proceeded  to  the  writings  of  AUeine,  a  celebrated 
non-conformist,  and  a  little  volume  of  his  was  regu- 
larly laying  before  him,  from  his  rising  to  his  retir- 
ing hour,  and  if  at  any  time  he  visited  the  garden  to 
enjoy  the  cheering  beams  of  the  sun,  the  evangeli- 
cal Allcine,  as  he  termed  him,  was  his  companion 
there. 

By  the  advice  of  many  who  anxiously  sought  our 
relief,  we  once  more  changed  tlie  scene,  for  a  short 
time.  But  wherever  we  journeyed,  he  was  still 
making  his  passage  through  the  valley  of  the  sha- 
dow of  death.  Through  this  dark  and  solitary  re- 
gion, every  man  must  pass  :  but  the  passage  admits 
of  a  wonderful  variety.  Some  are  hurried  down 
this  valley  with  a  rapidity,  which  will  not  allow  them 
to  mark  its  terrific  furniture  ; — while  others  are  led 
through  it  with  slow  and  solemn  steps.  Multitudes 
tread  this  road  under  the  torpors  of  a  stupid  insen- 


318  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

sibility  ;  and  many  rush  along  it,  under  the  turbu- 
lence of  a  raving  delirium.  Some  few  favored  in- 
dividuals are  allowed  to  pass  in  a  state  of  complete 
recollection  and  composure,  and  sometimes  an  ex- 
traordinary personage  is  carried  through  it  in  a  kind 
of  holy  triumph.  Our  dear  son,  went  down  into 
this  desolate  valley  without  disquietude,  and  walked 
deliberately  through  it  without  apprehension.  We 
attended  his  steps  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of 
his  painful  journey  :  without  ever  withdrawing  our- 
selves from  his  side,  we  observed  the  changes  that 
took  place  at  every  stage,  we  marked  every  turn  of 
his  countenance,  we  caught  every  expression  that 
fell  from  his  lips. 

But  while  we  were  solicitous  to  sustain  his  weak- 
ness, and  to  smooth  his  path,  we  found  him  in  cir- 
cumstances rather  to  afford  than  to  require  support. 
An  invisible  arm  sustained  his  soul,  and  supplied  his 
wants.  He  neither  felt  distress,  or  feared  evil  ;  for 
God  was  with  him,  even  he  "  who  giveth  songs  in 
the  night,  and  turneth  the  shadows  of  death  into  the 
morning."  Though  he  was  fully  sensible  whither 
his  steps  were  tending,  ho  went  cheerfully  forwards, 
neither  hinting  at  the  uneasiness  of  the  way  or  cast- 
ing one  wishful  glance  behind.  His  faith  and  pa- 
tience unweariedly  performed  their  proper  work, 
this  alleviating  present  pressures,  and  that  unveiling 
future  glories.  Neither  inward  decays,  nor  outward 
accidents,  could  interrupt  the  regular  exercise  of 
these  graces  ;  and  under  their  prevailing  influence 
he  meekly  triumphed  over  all  opposition.  "  This 
was  the  Lord's  doing,  and  it  was  marvellous  in  our 
eyes."  We  were  now  strongly  urged  to  visit  the 
Hot  Wells  at  Bristol,  as  the  last  hope  of  succeed. 


JOSHUA    ROWLEY    GILPIN.  319 

This  proposal  was  at  first,  mildly  resisted  by  our 
dear  son,  who,  fully  persuaded  of  the  nature  of  his 
case,  foresaw  that  the  experiment  would  occasion 
needless  trouble,  and  terminate  in  sad  disappoint- 
ment. But  perceiving  our  extreme  anxiety  on  the 
subject,  he  was  unwiUing  to  crush  all  our  expecta- 
tions at  once,  by  exposing  the  secrets  of  his  hope- 
less condition,  and  prepared  for  his  departure  with 
apparent  satisfaction.  His  cliief  attention  was 
bestowed  on  those  things  which  were  to  be  left  be- 
hind, and  which  he  seemed  to  regulate  with  extra- 
ordinary exactness.  We  observed  his  provident 
care  with  no  small  delight ;  but  between  his  thoughts 
and  ours,  the  difference  was  great  indeed  ;  we  fond- 
ly imagined  that  his  views  were  directed  to  an  hap- 
py return,  while  he  was  preparing  for  a  final  re- 
moval. 

On  similar  occasions  he  had  generally  required  a 
considerable  package  of  books  ;  he  now  requested 
only  that  an  English  Bible,  and  a  Greek  Testament 
might  not  be  forgotten,  while  he  himself  took  charge 
of  Alleine's  Alarm,  the  volume  to  which  he  had  be- 
come so  much  attached.  On  the  morning  of  Au- 
gust 27,  1806,  we  left  our  pleasant  village,  accom- 
panied by  the  best  wishes  of  our  neighbors,  many 
of  whom  were  standing  to  observe  our  departure, 
and  to  look  on  that  face  which  they  were  to  behold 
no  more. 

Our  journey  was  completed  without  difficulty,  and 
after  reposing  ourselves  under  the  hospitable  roof  of 
our  excellent  friend,  James  Ireland,  Esq.  we  re- 
moved to  our  own  apartments  near  the  Wells,  on  the 
first  of  September.  The  friendly  visits  of  a  gen- 
tleman of  great  medical  skill  and  practice,  contri- 


320  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

buted  more  than  once  to  the  temporary  rehef  of  the 
invalid,  and  were  continued  without  intermission  to 
the  day  of  our  bereavement  But  the  season  of 
our  fellowship  upon  earth,  was  now  drawing  hastily 
to  a  conclusion  ;  though  the  decays  of  nature  pro- 
ceeded by  such  insensible  degrees,  that  the  near 
approach  of  our  separation  was  less  perceptible  to 
ourselves  than  to  others.  Our  beloved  companion 
still  rose  and  dressed  as  usual,  sat  with  us  through 
the  day,  and  derived  satisfaction  from  every  thing 
around  him.  He  regularly  partook  of  our  meals» 
and  conversed  with  his  ordinary  animation ;  cau- 
tiously concealing  from  us  those  formidable  symp- 
toms, which  were  every  day  increasing  upon  him.. 
If  at  any  time  we  lamented  the  diminution  of  hi* 
appetite,  he  would  encourage  us  by  commending 
the  provision  that  was  made  for  him,  or  if  upon  any 
sudden  change  of  attitude  we  expressed  our  fears 
that  he  was  in  a  state  of  suffering,  he  would  ac- 
knowledge with  a  smile  the  perception  of  some  un- 
easiness, but  assured  us  that  it  amounted  not  to 
pain.  In  the  mean  time  his  pure  soul  had  disengag- 
ed itself  from  temporal  hopes  and  fears,  and  was 
silently  preparing  to  leave  mortality  behind.  The 
land  of  promise  was  ever  in  his  view^  and  he  waited 
only  the  welcome  signal  to  arise  and  take  possession 
of  his  heavenly  inheritance.  Under  the  divine  ben- 
ediction and  guidance  he  had  passed  through  the 
world  uncontaminated  with  its  pollutions,  and  unin- 
fluenced by  its  maxims.  His  whole  'path  had  been 
privileged  beyond  the  common  lot  of  man — he  had 
borne  no  burden — he  had  seen  no  sorrow — he  had 
felt  no  distressing  solicitude.  And  now,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  his  transient  course,  he  looked  like  some 


JOSHUA   ROWLEY   GILPIN.  321 

superior  being,  who  having  alighted  on  earth  for  the 
performance  of  an  hasty  commission,  was  again 
stretching  his  wings  for  an  homeward  flight. 

At  length  the  day  arrived,  which  we  had  so  long 
dreaded,  and  for  the  approach  of  which  we  were 
still  so  little  prejwired.  On  the  morning  of  Tues- 
day, September  9th,  we  walked  into  his  chamber,  as 
he  was  rising,  and  were  received  as  usual  with  an 
affectionate  smile.  He  answered  our  inquiries 
with  all  the  calmness,  and  caution  imaginable^  but 
there  was  an  appearance  of  languor  and  debihty 
about  him,  which  could  not  be  concealed.  He 
presented  himself  at  breakfast  with  an  air  of  satis- 
faction, and  joined  in  our  morning  devotions  with 
all  his  usual  composure.  Had  the  weather  permit- 
ted he  was  to  have  spent  an  hour  abroad,  but  as  it 
proved  unfavorable  he  sweetly  appUed  himself  to 
that  little  volume,  which  was  always  within  reach> 
and  seldom  out  of  his  h^d. 

His  ordinary  gentleness  was  exemplary  ;  but 
through  the  whole  of  his  deportment  on  this  day, 
there  was  a  lamb-iike  patience  which  filled  us  with 
admiration,  though  it  was  observed  that  his  respi- 
ration was  surprisingly  quickened  by  the  slightest 
exertion,  and  that  be  was  unable  to  converse  with- 
out frequent  pauses.  He  sat  down  to  our  dinner 
with  a  tolerable  degree  of  appetite,  and  appeared  at 
the  close  of  it  to  be  somewhat  refreshed.  After 
this  meal,  it  was  customary  with  him  to  slumber  for 
an  hour  in  his  chair,  while  we  silently  watched  his 
repose,  and  sent  up  our  supplications  to  heaven  in 
his  behalf.  We  were  thus  watching  near  him,  when 
he  suddenly  turned  upon  us  an  expressive  look^ 
which  seemed  intended  to  bespeak  our  attention. 
27 


822  BlOGliAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

He  had  long  desired  to  make  us  acquainted  with 
several  interesting  particulars,  concerning  the  state 
of  his  mind  ;  but  perceiving  our  inability  to  bear 
any  such  communications,  he  had  reluctantly  for- 
borne to  open  his  heart.  Nor  had  we  suffered  less 
uneasiness  on  our  part ;  having  many  things  to  say, 
and  yet  fearing  lest  our  awakened  feelings  should 
break  the  settled  tranquillity  of  his  soul,  and  hurry 
us  away  into  an  agony  of  distress.  As  it  was  with 
£lijah  and  his  attached  successor  on  their  approach- 
ing separation,  so  it  was  with  us.  They  maintain- 
ed a  delicate  reserve  towards  each  other,  while  they 
proceeded  from  Bethel  to  Jericho,  and  from  Jericho 
to  Jordan,  the  one  not  daring  to  glory  in  his  expect- 
ed ascension,  nor  the  other  to  express  his  sorrowful 
forebodings,  lest  they  should  mutually  agitate  one 
another,  and  disturb  the  order  of  the  approaching 
solemnity.  But  as  the  awful  moment  drew  near, 
and  he  was  about  to  be  gone,  Elijah  rose  above  the 
weakness  of  humanity,  and  openly  asserted  the  pur- 
pose of  heaven.  So  when  our  dear  son  was  made 
sensible  by  some  internal  and  infallible  token,  that 
his  hour  was  at  hand,  he  thought  it  unsuitable  to 
our  common  character,  that  he  should  leave  the 
world  without  giving  glory  to  God.  Under  this  im- 
pression he  expressed  himself  with  all  his  wonted 
calmness  and  deliberation,  to  the  following  purpose. 

"  I  have  long  known  my  disease  to  be  a  danger- 
ous one  ;  and  now  I  perceive  the  danger  to  be  very 
great  : — but  I  am  resigned.  I  have  daily  hesitated 
to  make  you  acquainted  with  my  real  state,  lest  T 
should  add  to  the  sufferings  which  I  have  already 
brought  upon  yon.  But  as  we  must  all  die,  T  think 
if  unhappy  when  a  man  is  approaching  death,  that 


JOSHUA    ROWLEY    GILPIN.  323 

either  he  or  his  friends  should  fear  to  make  it  the 
subject  of  their  conversation.  To  meditate  and 
speak  upon  death,  is  a  part  of  our  duty  even  in  the 
days  of  heaUh.  You  have  otten  led  me  to  this  se- 
rious duty  in  seasons  that  are  past ;  and  it  becomes 
us  not  to  shrink  from  it  now. 

"  I  see  nothing  in  this  state  worth  hving  for  ;  the 
whole  world  is  replete  with  vanity,  and  1  esteem  it 
happy  to  be  removed  out  of  it  at  an  early  period  of 
life.  Much  of  my  time  has  been  spent  in  the  study 
of  one  or  two  languages,  to  which  we  are  apt  to  at- 
tach an  high  degree  of  importance — (then  turning  a 
pleasant  look  upon  his  mother,  he  added) — but  in 
heaven  that  labor  will  be  known  no  more ;  for  there, 
as  Buuyan  observes,  they  all  speak  the  language  of 
Canaan.  Human  studies  and  pursuits,  are  gener- 
ally of  a  trifling  kind,  and  not  such  as  we  are  likely 
to  cultivate  and  perfect  in  the  future  world.  When 
I  look  back  upon  my  past  life,  I  see  nothing  in  it  but 
what  is  sinful,  and  it  seems  almost  incredible  to  me 
that  a  dying  man  should  ever  speak  of  himself  as  a 
harmless  and  innocent  creature  ;  though  I  have 
heard  that  this  is  sometimes  the  case. 

If  such  a  case  is  really  possible,  it  must  surely  be 
one  of  the  most  discouraging  that  can  fall  under  the 
notice  of  a  pious  minister.  I  know  myself  to  be  a 
sinner — and  I  have  not  been,  even  to  you,  what  you 
had  reason  to  expect."  Hitherto  we  had  permitted 
our  beloved  one  to  proceed  without  interruption, 
imposing  upon  ourselves  a  restraint  which  could 
scarcely  be  maintained  from  one  sentence  to  anoth- 
er. But  at  this  last  distressing  word,  wo  fell  upon 
his  neck  and  kissed  him,  with  passionate  assuran- 
ces that  he  bad  been  better  to  us  than  all  our  bopee^ 


324    BioonAPHY  OF  nous  persons. 

and  that  we  had  known  nothing  but  pleasure  hi  his 
society. 

Till  this  moment  he  preserved  his  characteristic 
serenity  ;  but  now  his  tears  flowed  apace,  his  burst- 
ing sobs  could  be  no  longer  suppressed,  and  his 
whole  feeble  frame  was  shaken  \vith  the  tendcrest 
emotions.  This  part  of  the  scene  was  too  distres- 
sing to  be  either  endured  or  described,  and  it  was 
happy  that  his  mother  could  so  far  prcvEiil,  by  her 
affectionate  entreaties,  as  to  assuage  the  anguish  of 
our  hearts.  In  a  short  time  he  wiped  away  the 
last  tears  he  was  ever  to  shed  :  and  assuming  his 
former  composure,  thus  continued  his  discourse. 
*'  My  complaint  has  been  of  long  continuance ; 
but  I  have  reason  to  be  thankful  that  it  has  not  sub- 
jected me  to  acute  pains ;  for  under  a  state  of 
bodily  torture,  it  must  be  diflicult  to  preserve  the 
mind  from  distraction  ; — I  owe  it  to  the  goodness 
of  God  that  I  have  been  permitted  the  free  use  of 
my  thoughts  through  the  whole  of  my  sickness, 
and  I  rejoice  especially  in  this,  that  they  have  been 
directed  to  subjects  of  inestimable  worth.  When 
I  first  took  up  Alleine's  Alarm,  1  feared  to  find  up- 
on myself  the  marks  of  the  unconverted.  But 
though  I  was  once  under  the  dominion  of  some  of 
those  sins,  which  are  there  enumerated,  Alleine  has 
taught  me  both  the  need  and  advantage  of  a  Sa- 
viour, and  I  am  freed  from  their  bondage."  After 
a  pause  of  some  length  he  turned  to  me  with  the 
following  affecting  question;  ^*  Father,  what  is 
your  opinion  respecting  the  circumstances  of  the 
soul,  immediately  on  its  quitting  the  body?  Do  you 
suppose  it  instantly  to  pass  into  the  presence  of 
God  ?  or  do  you  imagine  it  to  be  detained  for  an 


JOSHUA    ROWLEV    GILPIN.  325 

uncertain  space  in  some  separate  and  inferior  state." 
I  answered  with  confidence,  "  The  passage  of  the 
righteous  soul  from  earth  to  heaven  is  assuredly 
instintaneous."  "  That,"  replied  he,  "  is  my  opin- 
ion, for  doubtless  those  words  of  our  Lord  concern- 
ing Lazarus  may  be  depended  on — Lazarus  was 
carried  by  the  angels  into  Abraham's  bosom." 

Thus  closed  a  discourse  which  can  never  be  eras- 
ed from  our  remembrance,  and  which  constrained 
me  at  the  time  to  offer  my  humble  acknowledgments 
to  that  God  who  had  conferred  upon  our  dear  son 
the  highest  honors  that  a  father  could  solicit  for  his 
child.  After  reposing  himself  for  a  short  space 
upon  the  sofa,  while  we  were  endeavoring  to  recover 
our  spirits  from  the  agitation  into  which  they  had 
been  hurried,  he  attended  us  at  the  tea  table; 
where  we  had  scarcely  taken  our  seats  when  our 
dear  friend,  Mr.  Ireland,  was  introduced,  in  com- 
pany with  an  amiable  lady  who  had  interested  her- 
self much  in  oiu*  affairs.  Mr.  Ireland  seated  him- 
self close  by  the  side  of  our  dear  son,  and  inquired 
very  minutely  into  the  state  of  his  health,  examining 
him  vnth  a  fixed  observance,  and  counting  his  pulse 
with  the  nicest  exactness.  These  were  his  usual 
attentions  to  the  beloved  sufferer,  as  often  as  they 
met ;  and  they  were  returned  at  this  solemn  season 
with  the  most  unaffected  appearances  of  sensibility 
and  res[)ect.  The  conversation  which  took  place 
was  perfectly  suited  to  our  situation,  and  calculated 
to  fix  our  thoughts  upon  the  Great  Disposer  of  all 
our  concerns.  Had  they  witnessed  all  the  circum- 
stances of  the  past  day,  and  foreseen  all  the  events 
of  the  approaching  night,  our  Christian  visitants 
could  not  have  assumed  a  deportment  more  com- 
27* 


326  BIOGRAPHY   OF   PIOUS   PERSONS. 

pletely  adapted  to  the  occasion.  There  was  an 
inexpressible  something.,  which  made  the  whole  of 
this  interview  peculiarly  serious  and  impressive  to 
us  all ;  and  at  the  conclusion  of  it,  Mr.  Ireland 
secretly  expressed  his  amazement  at  the  invariable 
composure  of  our  son,  while  his  pulse  was  running 
on  with  an  incalcidable  rapidity.  The  evening  was 
devoted  partly  to  his  favorite  writer,  and  partly  to 
silent  meditation.  But  however  he  was  engaged, 
the  happy  frame  of  his  mind  was  easily  discernible, 
through  his  tranquil  countenance;  and  we  were 
unwilling  to  disturb  the  profitable  employment  of 
his  thougbts. 

By  the  vigor  and  activity  of  his  soul  he  rose 
above  those  bodily  languors,  which  many  a  sufferer 
would  havecounted  insupportable;  nor  would  he  have 
once  noticed  his  weakness,  except  in  answer  to  our 
importunate  inquiries.  Constrained  by  these  im- 
portunities, he  ackowledged  himself  reduced  to  a 
degree  of  debility,  of  which  he  had  formerly  supposed 
human  nature  to  be  utterly  incapable ;  yet  this  he 
mentioned  rather  as  a  matter  of  surprise,  than  a 
cause  of  complaint.  His  views  had  taken  another 
direction,  and  had  he  found  us  of  a  temper  sufficient- 
ly firm,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  he  would 
have  added  something  to  his  former  communication. 
But  after  the  painful  experiment  already  made,  he 
thoughtit  advisable  rather  to  restrain  his  own  feelings, 
than  to  run  the  hazard  of  again  excruciating  ours. 
He  was  climbing  the  heights  of  Pisgah,  while  we  were 
lingering  below  in  the  valley  of  tears.  The  distance 
between  us  was  every  moment  increasing ;  and 
though  this  was  mutually  marked,  and  mutually 
lamented,  he  dared  not  venture  a  descent  to  us,  nor 


JOSHUA    ROWLEY    GILPIN.  327 

had  we  power  to  rise  with  him.  Our  different 
circumstances  prevented,  in  some  measure,  our 
familiar  intercourse.  Nevertheless,  through  the 
dark  cloud  of  our  sorrow  we  saw  him  borne  to  a 
commanding  station ;  from  whence,  had  we  been 
able  to  reach  his  elevated  ground,  he  would  have 
pointed  us  to  all  the  dazzling  glories  of  em  unknown 
world. 

It  was  now  our  evening  hour  of  prayer ;  and  we 
engaged  for  the  last  time,  in  a  solemn  act  of  family 
worship.  Never  before  was  this  sacred  exercise 
performed  with  so  much  reverence  and  fervor :  and 
though  it  could  not  be  performed  without  a  struggle, 
yet  our  supplications  and  our  praises  ascended  to- 
gether. Many  affecting  considerations  operated 
at  this  time  upon  our  susceptible  hearts  :  a  deep 
conviction  o£  human  frailty;  a  strong  perception 
of  our  dependance  upon  God ;  a  thankful  remem- 
brance of  past  mercies ;  a  soothing  sense  of  pres- 
ent support ;  an  enlarged  view  of  the  redemption 
that  is  in  Christ  Jesus ;  and  an  enlivening  hope  of 
future  blessedness ; — all  united  to  quicken  our  de- 
votions at  this  awful  period,  humbling,  melting  and 
animating  us  by  turns,  beyond  all  possibility  of  de- 
scription. Afler  a  short  and  peaceful  interval,  we 
invited  him  again  to  our  frugal  board,  which  was 
purposely  furnished  with  food  of  the  most  restora- 
tive kind.  He  accepted  the  invitation  with  his  usu- 
al affability,  and  gratified  us  by  partaking  of  our  re- 
|)ast,  with  an  unexpected  degree  of  freedom  and 
cheerfulness.  He  could  not  refuse  to  sit  at  our 
table ;  though  he  was  constrained  to  eat  and  drink 
with  us  in  the  manner  of  Israel,  at  their  last  supper 
in  Egypt,  his  loins  were  girded,  his  shoes  on  his 


328  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

feet,  his  staff  in  his  hand,  and  all  things  prepared  for 
an  immediate  removal. 

The  last  messengers  were  even  now  in  waiting  to 
conduct  him  away,  and  in  this  state  he  received  our 
anxious  attentions  with  a  most  engaging  sweetness, 
frequently  looking  upon  us  with  expressions  of  great 
tenderness,  and  benignity,  neither  wholly  restraining 
his  feelings  nor  yet  allowing  them  too  large  an  indul- 
gence. Though  his  words  were  few,  yet  they  were 
most  consolatory ;  and  his  smiles  had  still  so  en- 
livening an  influence  upon  us,  that  we  were  almost 
ready  to  interpret  them  into  promises  of  a  prolong- 
ed existence  upon  earth,  when  they  were  only  the 
glances  of  a  happy  departing  spirit.  The  same  ex- 
quisite sense  of  propriety  and  decorum,  which  had 
distinguished  him  in  the  days  of  health  and  enjoy- 
ment, was  exhibited  through  the  whole  of  his  de- 
portment under  sickness  and  suffering,  and  continu- 
ed, without  any  abatement,  to  the  last  moment  of 
his  life.  His  actions,  his  words,  his  looks,  were 
all  governed  by  the  strictest  rules  of  consistency 
and  moderation.  He  calmly  accommodated  him- 
self to  the  varying  exigencies  of  his  state,  main- 
taining a  lovely  sedatcness  through  all  the  trying 
changes  to  M'hich  he  was  exposed,  and  regularly 
manifesting  such  an  equability  of  soul,  as  the  ma- 
turest  Christian  would  wish  to  experience  in  his 
passage  through  the  chambers  of  death.  '  Let  me 
die  the  death  of  my  submissive  son,  and  let  my  last 
end  be  like  his.' 

The  volume  of  truth  was  lying  open  before  me, 
and  as  I  turned  over  its  sacred  pjiges  my  attention 
was  powerfully  called  to  a  portion  of  the  revelation 
of  St.  John.     I   perused  in  silence,  the  seventh 


SOSaVA    ROWLEY    GILPIN.  329 

chapter  of  that  mysterious  book  ;  and  finding  it  par- 
ticularly adapted  to  my  present  feelings,  I  repeated 
the  concluding  part  of  it  to  uiy  listening  compan- 
ions. "  These  are  they  who  came  out  of  great 
tribulation,  and  have  washed  their  robes,  and  made 
them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  Therefore 
sire  they  before  the  throne  of  God,  and  serve  him 
<ilay  and  night  in  his  temple,  and  he  that  sitteth  on 
the  throne  shall  dwell  among  them.  They  shall 
hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more ;  neither 
shall  the  sun  light  on  them,  nor  any  heat.  For  the 
Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne,  shall  feed 
them,  and  shall  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of 
waters,  and  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their 
eyes."  This  sublime  passage  produced  upon  our 
spirits  a  sort  of  electric  effect,  while  it  ofiered  us 
the  last  delightful  prospect  in  which  we  were  allow- 
ed to  participate  below.  We  closed  the  book,  and 
gazed  upon  each  other  in  an  holy  extacy ;  succes- 
sively attempting  to  express  what  could  not  possibly 
be  uttered.  Heaven  itself  lay  open  before  us ;  the  an- 
gels, the  elders,  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect, were  exhiljited  to  us,  and  their  song  of  ado- 
ration seemed  to  come  pouring  upon  our  cars,  as 
we  found  ourselves  involuntarily  rising  from  our 
seats  to  ascribe  with  them  "  blessing  and  honor,  and 
glory,  and  power,  unto  Him  that  sitteth  upon  the 
throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb  forever  and  ever."  It 
was  now  remarked  that  we  had  sat  up  to  a  later 
hour  thao  usual ;  when  our  dear  son  replied  uiat  he 
was  perfectly  ready  to  retire,  whenever  we  should 
think  proper. 

Orders  were  therefore    instantly  given  for  the 
necessary  preparations  to  be  made,  and  we  conduct- 


330  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

cd  him  to  his  room ;  where  he  requested  to  be  left 
alone,  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  which  we  soon  un- 
derstood to  proceed  from  his  desire  of  enjoying  a 
season  of  secret  and  unreserved  communication 
with  God.  On  our  return,  we  found  him  preparing 
to  lie  down,  and  offered  our  assistance,  but  without 
accepting  it,  he  placed  himself  very  composedly  in 
his  bed,  and  in  the  same  posture  which  had  pleased 
him  from  his  infancy.  After  the  interchange  of  a 
few  affectionate  expressions,  he  seemed  disposed  to 
slumber,  and  lest  our  presence  should  interrupt  his 
repose,  we  left  him  to  the  care  of  his  watchful 
nurse,  and  quietly  withdrew  to  our  own  apartment. 
There  we  passed  more  than  an  hour,  in  a  state  of 
fearful  suspense,  feebly  endeavoring  to  stay  our 
souls  upon  God,  and  anxiously  listening  to  every 
distant  sound  ;  yet  not  without  a  hope  that  the 
night  would  prove  a  season  of  comfortable  refresh- 
ment to  our  beloved  son.  At  length  he  was  heard 
to  cough  ;  and  his  distressed  mother  went  immedi- 
ately down  to  visit  him.  After  a  few  minutes  ab- 
sence, she  appeared  again  inviting  me  to  follow  her ; 
her  voice  was  scarcely  audible,  yet  it  sounded  like 
the  midnight  cry  in  the  gospel,  "  Behold  the  bride- 
groom cometh," — and  I  hastened  to  embrace  my 
Joshua  before  he  should  go  forth  to  meet  his  Lord. 
I  found  him  patiently  sinking  under  the  last  efforts 
of  his  disease,  with  a  countenance  full  of  tranquilli- 
ty, and  sweetness.  My  approach  produced  in  him 
a  sligKl  emotion, — but  he  had  proceeded  too  far  to 
return.  Not  able  to  endure  the  thought  that  our  in- 
tercourse was  wholly  at  an  end,  I  joined  my  face  to 
his,  softly  inquiring  by  what  means  I  might  yet  min- 
ister to  his  comfort.     He  understood  my  feelings, 


JOSHUA    ROWLEY    GILPIN.  331 

nnA  sought  to  repress  them  ; — replying  to  my  in- 
quiry with  a  gentle  request  that  I  would  cease  to 
speak.  After  hanging  over  him  for  a  few  minutes 
in  unutterable  distress,  I  involuntarily  repeated  my 
question,  when  in  a  tone  of  tender  affection  he  re- 
turned me  the  same  answer,  "  Please  twt  to  speak." 
He  had  already  opened  a  communication  with  the 
celestial  world,  and  fully  surrendered  himself  into 
the  hands  of  his  invisible  attendants  ;  and  in  these 
circumstances  was  unwilling  to  be  recalled  or  inter- 
rupted by  any  importunities  from  below.  Wo  re- 
ceived his  request  as  a  sacred  charge,  and  binding 
ourselves  to  silence,  kneeled  about  his  bed  in  a  state 
of  trembling  expectation.  A  short  and  solemn  pause 
succeeded  :  when  after  a  few  soft  groans,  without 
the  slightest  change  of  posture,  he  peacefully 
breathed  out  his  soul  into  the  bosom  of  his  Father 
and  our  Father,  his  God  and  our  God. 

At  this  awful  moment,  all  the  opposition  of  our 
will  to  the  divine  proceedings  was  totally  subdued  ; 
and  we  sunk  under  an  overwhelming  sense  of  his 
supremacy,  whose  judgments  are  unsearchable,  and 
whose  ways  are  past  finding  out ;  the  mountains 
flowed  down  at  his  presence  ;  and  we  laid  our  hand 
upon  our  mouth  before  him.  One  desire  alone  pos- 
sessed our  hearts,  and  it  was  too  eager  at  the  time 
to  be  restrained  ;  that  we  might  be  permitted  to 
follow  our  beloved,  where  mortalily  shall  be  swal- 
lowed up  of  life.  I  attempt  not  to  relate  how  the 
remaining  part  of  the  night  was  spent — but  it  was 
a  night  much  to  be  remembered  for  the  pulling  down 
of  all  our  temporal  hopes,  and  the  shutting  up  of  all 
onr  worldly  prospecfs, — if  was  a  night,  not  6(  pain- 
ful solicitude  but  of  incurable  sorrow, — a  night  of 


332  BIOGRAPHY    OF    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

intolerable  bitterness,  and  a  season  of  deep  humilia- 
tion before  God.  On  the  morrow  our  sympathizing 
friends  came  to  mourn  with  us,  and  to  comfort  us  ; 
and  though  no  human  consolation  could  avail  much 
in  our  case,  yet  were  we  sensibly  touched  with  their 
affectionate  commiserations. 

But  in  how  many  ways  our  inestimable  friend,, 
Mr.  Ireland,  was  pleased  to  exercise  towards  us  his 
active  benevolence,  it  would  be  difficult  to  enumer- 
ate. He  took  upon  himself  the  arrangement  of  the 
mournful  scene  that  was  to  follow,  and  at  the  day 
appointed  came  with  a  select  number  of  attendants 
to  convey  the  precious  remains  of  our  departed  son 
to  his  own  sepulchre.  Nor  was  he  satisfied  till  he 
had  gathered  us  again  Hnder  his  own  roof;  where 
he  adopted  every  means  that  humanity  could  devise, 
for  the  mitigation  of  our  growing  anguish — allow- 
ing us  all  the  freedom  that  mourners  could  desire, 
and  daily  watching  for  opportunities  of  doing  us 
good  ;  neither  omitting  to  remind  us  of  our  past  fe- 
licity, nor  refusing  to  mingle  his  tears  m  ith  ours. 

On  the  ensuing  Sabbath  a  pathetic  sermon  was 
delivered  on  the  sad  occurrence,  and  though  we 
exerted  all  the  resolution  we  were  capable  of,  to 
attend  the  public  worship  on  this  solemn  occasion, 
all  our  efforts  were  not  sufficient  to  save  us  from 
sinking  under  the  impression  of  a  discourse  so 
appropriate  and  affecting.  Our  compassionate  host 
would  gladly  have  detained  us  with  him  through  the 
approaching  winter,  conceiving  that  so  complete  a 
change  of  scene  and  society,  might  produce  some 
desirable  eflect  upon  our  spirits.  But  affliction  had 
unfitted  us  for  all  human  converse ;  and  after  paying 
a  sorrowful  visit  to  the  tomb  of  our  beloved  Joshua, 


JOSHUA   ROWLEY   GILPIN.  333 

we  tore  ourselves  away  from  the  place  of  his  burial 
to  the  place  of  his  birth,  that  where  our  joys  had 
risen  without  limits,  there  our  tears  might  flow 
without  restraint. 

Many  days  have  now  passed  since  the  separating 
stroke  was  inflicted ;  and  though  spring  and  summer, 
autumn  and  winter,  have  maintained  their  regular 
courses  without  interruption,,  yet  have  we  knovm 
but  one  continued  season  of  sadness  and  of  sorrow. 
Every  thing  around  us  has  undergone  a  dismal 
change, — the  charm  of  life  is  efiectuaJly  broken  ;  a 
sable  veil,  never  more  to  be  removed,  is  cast  over 
all  the  pleasant  appearances  of  nature  ;  our  house 
is  become  a  solitude  ;  and  the  world  presents  us 
with  a  dreary  and  desolate  wilderness.  But  it  af- 
fords us  consolation  to  reflect  that  we  are  passing 
through  this  wilderness  as  strangers  and  sojourners ; 
that  we  have  already  surmounted  many  of  its  difii- 
culties,  and  shall  shortly  reach  its  utmost  boundary. 
Our  best  enjoyments  are  still  at  a  distance  ;  and 
though  the  remaining  part  of  our  way  may  proba- 
bly be  more  distressing,  yet  it  will  assuredly  be 
much  shorter  than  that  which  is  past.  Our  dear 
companion,  it  is  true,  has  unexpectedly  started  from 
our  side,  and  gained  the  celestial  country  before  us. 
But  we  are  hastily  following  after  ;  and  a  few  more 
laborious  steps  will  restore  him  to  our  embraces, 
where  there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow, 
or  crying. 

In  the  meanwhile,  such  an  affliction  as  ours 
admits  of  no  perfect  remedy ;  nor  is  it  possible  that 
the  days  of  our  mourning  should  terminate  on  this 
side  the  grave.  Yet  when  we  consider  by  whose 
appointment  this  has  befallen  us,  we  silently  submit 
28 


334  BIOGRAPHY    OP    PIOUS    PERSONS. 

ourselves  to  his  sovereign  pleasure.  lie  hath  an 
undoubted  right  to  do  what  he  will  with  his  own. 
We  are  in  his  hands  as  clay  in  the  hands  of  the 
potter ;  and  to  him  only  are  known  the  methods  by 
which  we  may  be  finally  wrought  into  vessels  of 
honor.  If  a  sparrow  cannot  tall  to  the  ground 
without  his  notice ;  if  he  condescends  to  number 
even  the  hairs  of  our  head,  we  may  safely  satisfy 
ourselves,  that  he  would  not  have  permitted  so 
irreparable  a  calamity  to  overtake  us,  except  for  the 
accomplishment  of  some  truly  important  puiiiosc. 
What  that  purpose  may  be,  it  is  vain  for  us  to 
inquire ;  but  whether  it  be  our  preservation  from 
some  formidable  mischief,  or  our  preparation  for 
some  inestimable  good,  we  devoutly  pray  that  his 
gracious  design  may  be  fully  answered  upon  us. 
It  was  the  will  of  our  adorable  I^ord,  that  we  should 
be  employed  in  training  up  an  heir  of  salvation. 
Such  an  appointment  was  both  happy  and  honorable, 
and  it  has  occupied  our  most  serious  thoughts  for 
eighteen  years  together.  During  this  memorable 
interval,  we  have  put  forth  many  vigorous  efforts, 
and  tasted  many  extraordinary  consolations,  in  the 
execution  of  our  interesting  commission.  And 
though  our  conduct  has  been  defective  in  many 
particulars,  we  know  not,  had  wc  our  work  to  begin 
anew,  that  we  could  adopt  a  more  promising  course 
than  that  which  we  have  industriously  pursued, 
which  has  been  attended  with  such  unexampled 
felicity,  and  crowned  with  such  complete  success. 
Our  appointment  is  now  withdrawn,  our  work  is 
done,  and  our  finished  pupil  called  away  to  the 
court  of  his  heavenly  Father.     '  The  Lord  gave. 


JOSHUA    ROWLEY   GILPIN.  335 

and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away;  blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord.' 

The  sacred  volume  exhibits  man  under  the  figure 
of  a  flower.'*— All  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the  goodliness 
thereof  as  the  flower  of  the  field.  We  have  for- 
merly admired  the  aptness  of  this  figure ;  now  it 
strikes  us  in  a  new  and  afibcting  point  of  view. 
The  flowers  of  the  field  present  us  with  a  fascinating 
spectacle  ;  they  charm  our  eyes  by  the  beauty  of 
their  form^  the  delicacy  of  their  texture,  the  brilliancy 
of  their  colors,  and  the  fragrance  of  their  perfume ; 
they  serve  at  once  to  enrich  our  grounds,  to  adorn 
our  houses,  and  to  regale  our  senses  ;  but  after  all 
the  attention  we  can  bestow  upon  them,  their  frailty 
is  proportionate  to  their  loveliness.  And  such  are 
those  most  interesting  pieces  of  human  nature,  the 
children  of  a  family.  One  of  these  fair  flowers 
was  lately  in  our  possession  ;  we  saw  it  bud, — we 
Matched  its  opening  ; — we  admired  its  rising  excel- 
lences ;  and  pleased  ourselves  with  the  hope  that  it 
would  flourish  for  years  to  come  : — we  fostered  it 
with  care ; — we  guarded  it  with  vigilance,  and 
earnestly  recommended  it  to  the  protection  of  Ilim, 
who  had  formed  and  fashioned  it  with  such  inimitable 
skill.  But  after  all  our  unavailing  solicitude,  and 
all  our  passionate  supplications,  we  saw  it  languish, 
and  fade,  and  die !  Such  was  the  Divine  will 
concerning  us — and  now,  while  we  wander  about  the 
place,  of  which  this  blooming  plant  was  once  the 
choicest  ornament,  we  endeavor  to  sooth  our 
aflliction  with  the  consolatory  assertion  of  the 
|)rophct,  '  the  flower  fadeth  :  but  the  word  of  our 
Ciod  shall  stand  forever.'" 

To  this   exquisite  picture  of  the   sorrows   of  a 
2S* 


336  BIOGRAPHY    OF   PIOUS    PERSONS. 

pious  father,  I  add  a  sentence  from  his  prefatory 
address,  in  which  he  affectionately  dedicates  his 
invaluable  little  work  to  the  people  of  his  pastoral 
charge.  *'  The  time  is  fast  approaching  when  you 
will  see  me  borne  to  that  grave,  which  is  already 
prepared  to  receive  me.  But  long  after  my  minis- 
terial exercises  shall  have  reached  their  finaJ  period ; 
and  when  you,  my  brethren,  shall  be  sleeping  around 
me  in  the  dust,  my  dearest  son  may  continue  to  act 
through  the  medium  of  this  little  volume,  as  the 
modest  instructor  of  your  descendants,  persuading 
them  by  his  own  example,  and  haply  prevailing 
with  some  of  them,  to  become  followers  of  those, 
who  through  faith  and  patience  inherit  the  promises." 


THE  END. 


VALUABLE  WORKS, 

PUBLISHED    BT 

MERRIAM,  LITTLE  &  CO. 

Springfield,  Mass. 

Memoirs  of  RISDON  DARRACOTT,  Minister 
of  the  Gospel,  at  Wellington,  Somerset,  with  ex- 
tracts from  his  correspondence.  By  James 
Bennet. 

Darracoit  was  placed  aa  a  pupil  at  the  Seminary  over  which  Dr. 
Dodtlridge  presided  ;  and  the  tutor  was  afterwards  greatly  encouraged 
in  his  endeavors  to  promote  the  im|K>nant  objects  of  his  Institution, 
by  witat  he  heard  of  the  success  which  liad  attended  the  labors  of  his 
favorite  pupil,  in  the  gosix:!  ministry. 

VILLAGE  DISCOURSES,  preached  at  Aston 
Sandford.  By  the  late  Rev.  Thomas  Scott,  au- 
thor of  "  A  Commentary  on  the  Holy  Scriptures. 
The  CHRISTIAN  HEARER :  designed  to  show 
the  importance  of  hearing  the  Word,  and  to  as- 
sist Christians  in  hearing  with  profit.  By  Rev. 
Edw.  Bickersteth,  Author  of '  A  Scripture  Help,' 
&c. 
The  CHRISTIAN  PHILOSOPHER.    By  Thos. 

Dick. 
The  PHILOSOPHY  OF  A  FUTURE  STATE. 

Same  author. 
The  PHILOSOPHY  OF   RELIGION ;  or  an 
illustration  of  the  .Moral  Laws  of  the  Universe. 
Same  author. 

"It  is  one  of  the  most  instructive  volumes  that  has  ever 
fallen  into  our  hands.  If  there  is  any  work  of  man  calcu- 
lated to  enlarge  and  exalt  our  ideas  of  God — to  make  us 
feel  our  own  insignificance — our  base  ingratitude  for  tiie 
innumerable  blessings  we  enjoy,  and  the  infinite  claims 
which  our  Maker  has  upon  the  affections  of  our  hearts — it 
is  Dick's  Philosophij  of  Religion. ^^ — Roclusler  Observer. 


ii  Works  published  by 

The  POCKET  CYCLOPEDIA,  or  Epitome  of 
Universal  Knowledge.  By  Joseph  Guy.  First 
American  from  the  Ninth  London  Edition. 

"A  valuable  work  and  liiirhly  useful." — Rochealer  Observer, 
ICJ^Nunicrous  recommendations  might  be  added. 

PALEY'S  NATURAL  THEOLOGY. 
8CHOOL  BOOK^. 

The  AMERICAN  READER  :  Containing  Ex- 
tracts suited  to  excite  a  love  of  Science  and  Lit- 
erature, to  refine  the  Taste,  and  to  improve  the 
Moral  Character. 

Higlily  recomineiided  by  Professor  Bond,  author  ol"  tlie  Life  of 
Fisk,  Thos.  Siiell,  D.  D.  Rev  Jos.  Vaill,  Rev.  Kniersoii  Davis,  Rev. 
Asa  Rand,  Rev.  Geo.  Nichols,  Editors  ofN.  York  Journal  of  Com- 
merce, Mass.  Yeoman,  Springfield  Gazette,  &.c. 

The  FOURTH  CLASS  BOOK:  Confining 
Lessons  in  Reading  for  the  younger  classes  hi 
schools. 

The  CHILD'S  GUIDE  :  Comprising  Familiar 
Lessons,  designed  to  aid  in  Correct  Reading, 
Spelling,  Defining,  Thinking,  and  Acting. 

"The  title  of  the  last  work  points  out  the  objects  which 
we  think  should  be  kept  in  view  in  forming  readinsr  books 
for  children ;  and  we  have  seldom  seen  books  so  well  adapt- 
ed to  them.  Tiicy  describe  subjects  which  children  can 
comprehend,  in  languai!;e  which  they  can  undcrstmtd, — and 
tran  scarcely  fail  to  interest  and  nistruct,  and  what  is 
more  important,  to  exert  a  happy  moral  influence. — The 
Fourtti  Class  Book  we  have  known  used  willi  success. 
The  Child's  Guide  we  think  obviously  superior  in  its  plan 
and  execution." — Jlnnals  of  Education. 


*  A'leiriam,  Little  ^  Co.  iii 

"  It  seems  admirably  adapted  to  fill  an  existing  space  in 
the  re<jular  lino  of  inlant  reading  books.  *  *  The  subjects 
arc  well  chosen." — U.  S.  Liter ai-y  Jldvertiser. 

"This  Uttlc  book  is  compiled  on  the  inductive  principle, 
which  we  apprehend  is  the  only  true  philosophy  to  be  con- 
sulted in  preparing  books  for  beginners.  The  pri  face  con- 
tains some  important  practical  suggestions  to  teachers, 
and  we  should  judge  the  book  is  worthy  of  a  fair  trial  in 
the  primarj'  schools." — Education  Reporter. 

"  This  is  a  book,  which  those  for  whom  it  is  designed  can 
understand.  It  is  also  eminently  calculated,  while  it  awa- 
kens interest,  and  improves  the  mind,  to  warm  tlic  pupil  in- 
to benevolent  sentiments." — ["fVoju  an  Instructor. 

"  Children  are  pleased  with  it,  and  benefited  by  using 
it." — S.R.  Hall,  .Author  of  Lectures  on  Schoolkeeping. 

The  CHILD'S  ASSISTANT  in  acquiring  Use- 
ful and  Practical  Knowledge. 

The  work  comprises  brief  but  interesting  lessons,  cliicfly 
in  the  form  of  Clucstion  and  Answer,  on  the  following 
siilijccts: — Geography,  History,  Aborigines  of  America, 
American  History,  the  United  .States,  American  Revolu- 
tion, Astronomy,  Clouds,  Winds, &.c.  The  Human  System, 
Falsehood,  Reading,  Manners  and  Customs,  Natural  His- 
tory, Industry,  Governments,  Instances  of  111  Manners, 
Oiiedience,  The  Ten  Commandments,  Intemperance, 
Improper  Modes  of  Pronunciation  corrected,  Exi).anatiou 
of  Common  French  and  Latin  Phrases,  &c.  It  also  con- 
tains Tables  of  Weight,  Measure,  Time,  Money,  &c. 
From  a  J^otice  of  the  Work. 

"We  have  felt  the  need,  in  our  own  family,  of  just  such 
an  '  Assistant'  as  this  little  work.  It  is  designed,  by  ques- 
tions and  answers,  to  impart  to  the  impiisitive  minds  of 
young  children,  a  knowledge  of  facts  important  to  be  un- 
derstood by  them,  and  fitted  to  excite  their  curiosity  to 
know  more.  *  *  *  With  such  a  book  at  hand,  many  a 
leisure  moment  may  be  passed  pleasantly  to  the  parent 
and  profitably  to  the  gratified  children." 

"This  little  volume  contains  information  on  suhieelt< 
cluofly  practical,  and  important  in  the  transaction  ol  the 
ordinary  business  of  life." 


iv     Works  published  by  Merriam,  Little  ^  Co. 

The  CHILD'S  BOOK  OF  GEOGRAPHY. 
With  Outlines  of  Countries,  Cuts,  and  eight 
Copper  plate  Maps.  By  S.  R.  Hall,  author  of 
'  Lectures  on  School-keeping,'  and  Principal  of 
a  Seminary  for  Teachers,  Andover,  Mass. 

"  Mr.  Hall  has  a  thorough  practical  knowledge  of  teach- 
ing, and  has  adapted  this  Geography  to  the  capacity  of  the 
child.  The  order  of  arrangement  is  the  reverse  of  what 
has  usually  been  followed,  but  seems,  as  the  auilior  sug- 
gests, to  be  the  order  of  nature.  The  child  is  to  commence 
at  home  with  the  study,  and  %vith  the  aid  of  outhncs,  nu- 
merous cuts,  and  eight  neat  copperplate  maps,  will  easily 
acquire  a  correct  knowledoe  of  Geography.  By  a  proper 
arrangement  and  classification  of  subjects  connected  with 
this  study,  the  child  finds  the  acquisition  of  knowledge 
easy,  and  is  led  on  from  one  t^tcji  to  another,  in  an  amusing 
and  fascinating  way,  till  ho  acipiircs  a  general  knowledge 
of  what  has  usually  been  made  a  tedious  study.  Wo 
hope  this  book  will  find  its  way  into  ifll  our  primary 
schools,  and  give  a  new  spring  to  the  study  of  Geogra- 
phy."— Springfield  Gazette. 

'•  The  Child's  Book  of  Geography  seems  to  me  superior 
to  any  thing  of  the  kind  I  have  yet  examined. — It  is  as 
true  in  geography  as  in  learning  a  language,  that  we  should 
begin  with  the  alphabet.  The  first  letter  of  this  alphabet 
is  our  own  town.  VVe  may  next  proceed  to  the  county, 
state,  United  States,  &c.  This  seems  to  be  the  plan  oi" 
the  'Cliild's  Book  of  Geography.'  » 

Charles  C.  Corss. 

"  I  think  it  the  best  adapted  to  the  capacity  of  children 
of  any  Geography  which  1  have  ever  seen." — Rev.  A.  Elt. 

"  Dcciilcdly  the  best  first  book  in  Geography,  that  has  lallcn  within 
our  notice." — N.  E/ig.  Wcckhj  Rrvicir. 

^cyM.,  L.  &Co.  have  just  pubUshed,  The  GRAM- 
MATICAL ASSISTANT  by  S.  R.  Hall,  Principal  of  a 
Seminary  for  Teachers,  Andover,  Mass. 

These  works  may  be  liad  o!"  Collins  &  Hannay,  Nevv  York,  Tow- 
ar  &.  Hogan,  rhiiadelphia,  and  ihc  principal  Booksellers  in  Kcw 
Knsland. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parldng  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  whicli  it  was  borrowed. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     001  065  252     7 


^' 


.-d.N'-'v^^ 


